


positive feedback loop

by shakeit_dontbreakit



Category: Produce 101 (TV), Wanna One (Band)
Genre: 2park, Gen, M/M, Urban Fantasy, Urban Magic, Yay magic, a sprinkle of other pairings, all religions are valid, but the rest of wanna one is normal, chamwink, i love writing spells omg, jihoon is a witch, nonAU, when in doubt blame the moon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-16
Updated: 2018-08-12
Packaged: 2018-12-30 08:53:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 40,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12105138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shakeit_dontbreakit/pseuds/shakeit_dontbreakit
Summary: Love cannot be manipulated by magic because itismagic, and Jihoon's charmed orchids are only making their home life more harmonious and emotionally safe. So, the fact that Wanna One seems to be falling in love with itself has little to do with his magical prowess and instead indicates that some of these people are actuallyreally into each other.





	1. Minhyun Is a Very Good Hyung But I Have to Manipulate Him to Get What I Need

**Author's Note:**

> oh nothing just a bit of witchcraft and a lot of feelings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We begin the quest for peppercorns and protection.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 2park wicca!nonAU straight outta left field for the 0 people who asked for it
> 
> ✩°｡⋆⸜(ू˙꒳˙ )
> 
> also known as a pretty good excuse to compliment minhyun

☆

“Hyung, we have cinnamon, right?”

Minhyun looks up from unproductively watching a pot of water still a minute away from boiling. “Heh?”

Jihoon is rifling through some cabinets in the kitchen, huffing just a little. It’s not a strange question but coming from him, it kind of is. Minhyun can’t really explain why. Honestly, it’s a little odd for Jihoon to be asking for something from him in the first place, though not unprecedented. It’s just the pair of them in the kitchen, and the only other members at the dorm right now are Sungwoon, Woojin, and Guanlin, all probably asleep or getting there.

“Cinnamon. A stick or just powdered, I’m not picky.” Jihoon mutters, standing on his tiptoes to rifle through one of the higher cabinets.

“Uh… why?” Minhyun asks. He’s still pretty thrown by this. It’s nearing 1 am and Jihoon needs cinnamon. Well, it’s nearing 1 am and Minhyun needs to eat ramen and then go the fuck to bed.

Jihoon ignores him, huffing as he comes up empty. “No cinnamon, but… ah! Nutmeg! That’ll do.”

He plucks the spice out of the cupboard with a little laugh of success before dropping back to his flat feet. As Jihoon turns on his heel, he gives Minhyun an ambiguous little smile that causes him to furrow his brows in return. To be honest, he sometimes sees a hint of Minki in Jihoon’s impishness, enough for Minhyun to let him get away with some things he shouldn’t during their rare one-on-ones.

Jihoon is about to leave the kitchen, the nutmeg held before him with two hands, before he stops short and turns to face Minhyun. He shoots him a winning smile and bows just a little. “Oh, and thank you for buying rosemary for me during your shopping date with Jaehwan-hyung. I really appreciate it.”

Bewildered, Minhyun gapes slightly. “Of course… Is there, uh, anything else you want me to—” _tell Jisung who will tell the managers who might eventually_ “—get for you?”

This puts Jihoon on his guard for a moment but eventually he blushes and looks down at his feet. “Well, _actually_... Cinnamon, I suppose. And whole black peppercorns if possible, please. Thanks hyung.”

Those are just spices. So is nutmeg. There’s nothing wrong with or weird about spices, even if Minhyun doesn’t understand the context here. He thinks it might have something to do with… _Wait, what?_ Minhyun lost his focus for a moment. Then again, Jihoon did ask for cinnamon and peppercorns. With a raised eyebrow, Minhyun starts thinking where, when, and how to secure these ingredients—honestly if he wants to get to know Jihoon, he should start with being nice, right? “I’m sure I can figure that out.”

The water has reached boiling point.

Minhyun must look both worried and confused because Jihoon bites his lip and plays with a small stone pendant hanging on a thin chain around his neck. “You don’t have to worry too much, okay? We’ll be protected here. Goodnight hyung, I hope your face doesn’t swell in the morning.”

Jihoon departs with a cheeky little wave, and Minhyun is a little too mad at him bringing that shit up to overthink peppercorns and protection. There’s nothing suspicious, Minhyun of all people would be able to sniff that out. Maybe Jihoon just likes the smell.

After shaking his head of some unformed thought, he finally turns to the boiling water to prepare his ramen.

 

(Unknown to both, Woojin has paused while brushing his teeth in the bathroom to be able to eavesdrop on the kitchen conversation. _Jihoon doesn’t even like cinnamon, though?_ Woojin is pretty sure Jihoon doesn’t like cinnamon. And who needs peppercorns, ever?

Woojin can’t be the only one noticing this weird shit. He continues brushing his teeth, catching a reflection of the colored blur of Jihoon in the mirror when he darts past the bathroom to get to their room. With his suspicious nutmeg and without Minhyun’s suspicion. Okay, then.)

☆

_CLXXXVII: An Enchantment to Bring Harmony and Peace in a Space_

_Full Moon zenith: 1:34am kst_

Jihoon scribbles in his Book of Shadows. He taps his pen on the paper, next to the title of his 187th spell. Even the timing is auspicious, pairing up with the raw power of the full moon. He continues.

 _Seriously_ , _I have to put together a protection sachet specifically for our Emperor. He’s been helping me the most with supplies and things, and just him being Hwang Minhyun is enough to warrant a little extra love. He looks after us, so we have to do the same. I hope he can come through on the cinnamon and peppercorns though, otherwise I’ll have to make a different sachet and I really like the one I had in mind._

Jihoon knows that requesting things from Minhyun is just sending a message up the leadership and management grapevine, but luckily that vine starts with Yoon Jisung, quick witted and formidable enough to turn that request into a demand. It didn’t take long for Jihoon to realize that Minhyun has a touch more influence with Jisung than the rest of them, except for maybe Daniel.

It took him a bit longer to realize that Minhyun actually does have a weakness for cute things. If Jihoon’s analysis of Minhyun’s growing legion of devoted dongsaengs is correct, Minhyun drifts toward either cute and spicy or diamond-in-the-rough potential. It’s a little too late for the later but Jihoon can do cute and spicy in his sleep.

So, he just asks Minhyun (with assurance and sweetness) who mentions to Jisung (offhandedly) who whines until (hopefully) _cinnamon_ and _black peppercorns_ shows up on the manager’s grocery list.

He turns back to his Book of Shadows.

_The scariest test has been taken, the final boss defeated before proving once and for all that my obsidian befuddlement charm works even on the mentally strongest of us (refer to CLXXXIII: A Charming of an Object to Confuse and Distract upon Activation)._

_The mentally strongest being a tie between Minhyun and Jisung. Still, someone with as much discerning perception as Minhyun was affected as wholeheartedly as the others. To be honest, I almost feel bad. Minhyun’s mind is quick and his ability to analyse and act on the information he’s been given is unparalleled in this house. But the spell doesn’t let him REMEMBER that information as I give it, so that big brain of his can’t process it in the first place. I did have to finesse that a bit—I still needed him to remember to get me peppercorns and cinnamon, but not think too much about it._

_Ahhhhhh, I could write a chapter complimenting Minhyun, all the members for that matter, but this book is not the diary of Park Jihoon. Ahem. On with the spell._

_I made the choice to not cast this enchantment right when we moved in. I’m proud of that decision because even though we’ve been living here for some time, using the power of tonight’s true full moon will cast something deep and lingering into the mix. I pulled the moon tarot in the present position this morning. I’ve been waiting for this day but I never expected being able to double up on lunar power. I’m casting this spell on the roof, in the full moonlight so bright it casts sharp shadows. I’m ready to fucking rock._

_Basically, this will be the strongest harmony and balance home blessing I’ve ever conceived, and it has to be tonight. You’re welcome, all of us. I can keep this up for 18 months. Maybe. I’ve never had the greenest thumb though._

_Anyway, without further ado..._

_Charming a Space To Make Sure We Don’t Murder Each Other:_

_You will use,_

  * _Potted flowers (Gatton Sunray Orchids, thanks mom!)_
  * _Rosemary (arigatou Minhyun-sama!)_
  * _Thyme (thanks, friendly grandma at the market)_
  * _~~Cinnamon~~ Substitute Nutmeg (it’s homier anyway)_



_Cast the circle with the potted flowers within it._ _Sprinkle rosemary, thyme and nutmeg on the soil of the flowers you enchant. The harmony should last for as long as the charmed flowers are blooming. Enter: Orchids, existing in almost perpetual bloom. Does this count as a magic hack?_

_Recite the blessing:_

_Balance and harmony,_

_Peacefulness and ease,_

_By the Power of Three_

_All Turbulence cease._

_Visualize peace, balance, harmony. Like those lazy, happy times in the van where no one says it but we’re all proud of each other. Think about helping Guanlin with Korean and how deeply everyone appreciates Jisung. Think about Woojin, and those times you don’t need words to communicate and conspire. Peace, balance, harmony. Maybe some fun._

_Open the circle, place the flower in the center of the area where you wish to bring balance and sanctuary._

Jihoon pauses in his scribbles at this. That will be tricky, because dead center is technically the spiral staircase, and honestly if he wants to keep this plant alive it has to be in a secure, centerish position that is somehow unthreatened by eleven human males doing their day-to-day activities. Ah, got it. He continues to write.

_Put orchids in the kitchen, because we seriously don’t have time to cook and no one really spends time in there. Except Minhyun, really, and he’d probably just appreciate the beauty of the plant without questioning its addition too heavily. Especially if I befuddle him about it. Hell, he might even start taking care of it himself. Would that give more power to the harmony? (Look into this)_

_I’m waiting until Minhyung-hyung goes to bed before going to the moonlit roof and enchanting the fuck out of some orchids. Will report later._

_☆_

The Variety Line—Daniel, Jihoon, Seongwoo, Jisung and Minhyun—have just stumbled into the dorm at half past I hate fucking everything o’clock. Jihoon quickly shut himself in his room without a word and Jisung let Daniel take the first shower this time around.

The others are idly resting in the living room, in a tired queue for the shower. Everyone’s brains are pretty much jelly but the whole instant debut superstar thing is still so new and engaging and sometimes the dreamlike novelty is enough to pull them through their physical exhaustion.

That and the sense of harmony and flow that has settled around all eleven recently.

“Is it just me, or is our group dynamic collectively homoerotic?” Seongwoo asks breezily.

Minhyun spits out the water he just sipped.

“Ho-hooo, spit take. Nice, Minhyunnie.” Seongwoo praises before addressing that megaton bomb he just dropped. “Maybe not _erotic_ so much as _… homoromantic._ I’ve just been noticing we’re all getting along really well. Lots of touching. All of us, not mention _the couples_. Have you ever just observed Daehwi and Jinyoung for more than five seconds?”

“Poor Sungwoon, he has to chaperone that room.” Jisung comments lazily.

Seongwoo keeps talking. “And then like, I kind of thought Baby Line was going to tear itself apart. They’re all budding superstars so I thought their personalities might clash before long, but they _haven’t._  They fucking love each other.”

“You and Daniel are practically dating.” Jisung chimes in again.

“Ongniel being science. Guanlin’s first love. I’ve sniffed out some 99 line recently.” Seongwoo continues without losing a beat or acknowledging Jisung. “Hell, I’m even starting to think about Minhyun and his orchids.”

Minhyun blushes a little but scoffs loudly. “What is so weird about tending to a plant, Ong? Seriously, it’s not like anyone else in this house is going to care for it.”

“I like it.” Jisung says peaceably. His eyes are closed. “Whose is it anyway?”

“It kind of just… showed up one morning.” Minhyun admits, shrugging.

Seongwoo giggles at this. “Ooh, spooky. But seriously, we should get more.” He stretches languidly, drawing out his words a bit.. “Cacti and succulents and the ones that don’t require a ton of upkeep.”

Minhyun scoffs at his laziness. “Or ones that require more love and attention, you sloth.”

“Ouch, Minhyunnie, ouch. But back to my point.” Seongwoo weaves his fingers together for emphasis. “There’s just a good vibe right now. I thought I’d acknowledge it.”

Seongwoo is in no way wrong. By all rights this shit should be lethally exhausting, but they have started to adapt to their new reality and Minhyun would be totally lying if he said it didn’t have to do with how well they’re getting along.

“Yeah, I guess we’re just… compatible.”

 

[On the other side of the door to his room, Jihoon has his ear pressed up against the wood and a fist stuffed in his mouth to stop from giggling out loud. The lunar charged peace and harmony orchids are _killing it_. Actually, he may have overkilled it, doubling down on lunar power like that. No wonder they’re so, how did Seongwoo put it, _homoromantic._

Well, the spell is cast and he’s a bit too proud to reverse the enchantment. On top of that, love cannot be manipulated by magic because it _is_ magic, and his orchids are only making their home life more harmonious and emotionally safe. So, the fact that Wanna One seems to be falling in love with itself has little to do with his magical prowess and instead indicates that some of these people are actually _really_ _into each other_.]

 

(Unknown to Jihoon, Woojin is quite awake, staring at Jihoon act like a fool with narrowed eyes. _Does he think acting like a mega dork is somehow inconspicuous? No._ Woojin watches, willing himself to stay perfectly still and willing his eyes to adjust to the darkness faster.

Maybe it worked, because he can start to clearly see Jihoon listening in on their hyungs, can see him reach into his shirt and pull out a small charm on a chain. He brings it to his lips for a quick moment before keeping it held softly between his thumb and pointer finger. Uh, what?

Woojin can hear the voices in the living room, even if it’s a little muffled.

_“Yah, what… what were we talking about?”_

_“Dunno. But seriously, that necktie joke you dropped tonight was pure gold, hyung. Where’d you pull that from?”_

They forgot? Forgot about orchids and their discussion about that relatively recent sense of pure trust and true goodwill that has fallen over them. Woojin has been noticing it as well. He wonders how three of the sharpest men in the band could just… forget.

Well, consider Woojin's curiosity piqued.)

 ☆

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> titter tatter [twitter](https://twitter.com/tinylittlebell) twartttt


	2. I Think Woojin is Immune to The Befuddlement Spell and I Don’t Know What To Do

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An intrigued Scorpio pines after a flighty Gemini and it's just all so _dramatic._ Woojin is pretty brave, trying to solve a moving mystery while at the same time sort out his heart. Jihoon probably shouldn't have underestimated him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> jealous woojin is a mean woojin but no worries hes just stressed
> 
> (∩｀-´)⊃━☆ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ

☆

Woojin _knows_ Jihoon is up to something. He is, there's no way he's imagining it. In a strange way, Jihoon is actually being rather obvious, as though he thinks no one is onto him. But the thing is no one else seems aware of anything. And to make matters worse, despite the few times Woojin has caught Jihoon doing something suspicious, what he was doing didn’t make enough sense for him to draw any conclusions from it.

Woojin might be a noisy nightmare but he's incredibly observant despite that. He sees things. Minhyun has basically adopted a plant into his heart and it’s actually helping his stress, Jaehwan has advanced from _good at pretending to dance well_ to _keeping up quite well,_ he sees stuff like that. Woojin’s good at seeing those things—mapping those things—in the people he cares about.

Except for maybe the one he cares about just a _little tiny bit_ more than the rest. Park Jihoon is good at obscuring his intentions while somehow also justifying his actions. It could be because he _so_ successfully branded himself as Wink Boy at the very start of their competition that despite how they should know better, the other members believed it, loved it, and came to see it as who Jihoon really is. Even Woojin fell victim, and he’s lowkey (HIGHkey very high) obsessed with figuring out how to be closer to him.  

He could also be totally, totally wrong, too.

No matter what, Jihoon is just a giant Question Mark. Woojin looks forward to finding the answer. He kind of _needs_ to figure it out, if not for the goal than for the fact that Woojin has invested a lot of time into this. He knows he's getting a little crazy about this, but he just has to figure it out. Maybe one of the reasons they get along like they do is because Jihoon likes to run and Woojin likes to chase. It’s not a back-and-forth, it’s a feedback loop.

And yet, despite their bros-for-life chemistry, Woojin still can’t figure out what he’s up to.

It’s been two weeks since Woojin set off to track Jihoon’s inexplicable strangeness, and by now it’s become something of a habit. Maybe even a hobby. Jihoon is up to something, it’s just… a very vague and mysterious something that Woojin doesn’t know actually exists.

Sometimes Woojin catches him muttering under his breath, eyes closed and clearly _somewhere else—_ this is weird because Jihoon has a highly developed sense of environmental awareness and almost always knows when someone is watching him. Then there was that nonsense when Jihoon eavesdropped on their hyungs behind a door and weirdly caressed his necklace like some skulking creature. That was a red flag.

Also, Jihoon has started singing to the new orchid—they’ve taken to calling it Hyunbin—a few days ago, though to be honest _that_ just seems like a Jihoony thing to do.

Jihoon isn’t acting moody or incorrectly either. _Based on what little I’ve actually seen of his life, how can I even say that._ Woojin doesn’t know what normal Jihoon acts like. He’s only gotten to know the kid through competition and duress, through the fast-paced and micro-managed life they lead. What is a well-rested Jihoon even like? How can Woojin not know?

That doesn’t feel okay to him—it feels like something he needs to fix.

It’s morning, which actually means predawn in their world. Half of the members are awake and Woojin can hear Jisung wrangling the rest of the cats with soft words and occasional hard smacks with a pillow. Woojin is bleary-eyed and bed-headed in the kitchen, nursing a scalding cup of coffee and peering at Jihoon through the steam. Cup of tea in hand, Jihoon hums sweetly to the orchids, occasionally running a finger softly around the edges of the petals.

“What’s going o—” Woojin starts and stops immediately. Fuck. He didn’t want to actually say that out loud. It’s too fucking early for spoken language, let alone an impromptu interrogation.

Jihoon just peers back over his shoulder at Woojin, cocking his head. To be honest, Woojin doesn’t have enough information gathered even after two weeks of trying to keep tabs on Jihoon’s activity. He’s simply not ready to ask or even demand anything of Jihoon, so he shakes his head and slips out of the kitchen. Woojin makes it to the living room before sitting crosslegged on the ground and closing his eyes.

It’s actually rather simple. Other than what he’s pieced together with his eyeballs and a little bravery, Woojin knows basically nothing about Jihoon. Quirks, fears, old memories and personal philosophies—Woojin hasn’t asked his friend about these things. He hasn’t told Jihoon any of these things either.

Maybe Jihoon’s behavior isn’t different or odd at all. Maybe Woojin just didn’t know him as well as he assumed. His heart squeezes painfully and he actually winces at the thought. It’s a strange pain, with sadness and guilt all wrapped together with a tight and cutting desire to understand Park Jihoon.

Guanlin is lying sprawled on the couch, and since he’s a beanpole his feet are actually sticking out into thin air. His eyelids are half open and he notices Woojin’s sudden bout of moodiness. “You okay, hyung?”

Woojin looks at Guanlin quickly, almost startling the younger boy. Wait, this could work. One of the most consistent elements of Wanna One is Guanlin’s monster crush on Jihoon. For the most part the members are too busy to keep track of each other’s individual schedules, but if there’s anyone who knows Jihoon’s, it’s their swaggy rapper from Taipei.

“What’s Jihoon’s final engagement tonight, again?” After thinking it through, Woojin opts to pretend that he was also aware of Jihoon’s schedule and forgot this time. Oh, nothing, just an unplanned attempt to reclaim space that wasn’t his to begin with. Guanlin will be able to answer more questions about Jihoon than anyone, and that’s fucking annoying.

He’s not being territorial, he’s just figuring some shit out. _And_ being territorial. Let’s be honest, it sometimes (always) bothers him that Guanlin likes Jihoon so much, so _obviously_. It also bothers him that Jihoon often likes the attention, even if he’s sometimes uncomfortable receiving it. Guanlin is bold where Woojin cannot be, but the maknae probably has information he needs and he’s sure as shit going to get something right here, right now.

“Radio with Jisung and Daniel. Until 1:30 am.” Guanlin answers easily, omitting their honorifics more because he forgot than because he’s being rude. “Jihoonie does well live, he’s got a ton of noise talents.”

“ _Vocal_ talents.” Woojin corrects him softly.

“Vocal talents.” Guanlin repeats with a nod before linking his long fingers behind his head and kicking his feet a bit. “Why?”

 _Because I’m desperately intrigued by the boy you might be in love with._ Nope, don’t say that. “I don’t know, our schedules haven’t really synced in a while. Just wondering, I guess.” Well that’s not a lie.    

Guanlin looks convinced by Woojin’s answer but suspicious of the reasoning behind it. “You two are really close, aren’t you hyung?”

“99 line.” Woojin grumbles in answer, as if that’s all it was. _That IS all it is_ , he reminds himself, finishing his coffee and shooting up to bus the mug in the kitchen sink.

He’s about to return to his room when a glance at the orchids halts his steps. It’s all so pretty, the warm yellow a nice break from the blue theme of the dorm. He _swears_ he didn’t tell his hand to touch the petals, but they just _do_. They’re soft, delicate, but somehow surprisingly sturdy. He notices a slight warmth to the flowers as well now that he’s finally touching them. It’s just nice. There’s something healthy and glowing about them.

_Okay Woojin, what the hell, stop petting Hyunbin. Go brush your hair or something._

He nods to the plant— _wow, what—_ and slides on his socks into his shared room.

Aaaaand it looks like he shuffled right into another ‘Jihoon is acting like a fucking weirdo, but it might just be who he is as a person(?)’ moment. This one is a little more incriminating than usual.

Jihoon is sitting in his top bunk, cutting a square of fabric out of a white T-shirt. It’s a nice shirt, probably expensive, and Jihoon is destroying it. Honestly, Woojin is just hovering, practically caught in the doorway. In another second, Jihoon has sheared off a thin, long piece of fabric.

“The fuck are you doing.” It’s not really a question.

But wow, Woojin did _not_ intend to sound so mean. Jihoon jumps and in a surprisingly competent display of legerdemain somehow makes the fabric square, ribbon, and scissors just _vanish_. Jihoon’s pretty eyes are still wide with shock and starting to water and Woojin can’t help but look at them instead of the shirt he had been cutting. In another heartbeat Woojin looks down and sees the shirt has also disappeared. What. Did Jihoon just bamboozle him?

“Uh,” Woojin opens and closes his mouth a few times, seriously unable to figure out how he should react. Jihoon is playing with his necklace again, eyes darting from Woojin’s eyes to his hands, to his feet and back to his eyes again, as though scanning for something.

“Where did all that shit go?”

Jihoon has finished processing his fight or flight reflex and has chosen the latter. He hops down from his top bunk and breezes to the door with nothing more than, “It’s my own shirt, stop making that face.”

What face? Oh, probably the angry, constipated one. Woojin double checks in the mirror as Jihoon leaves. Yep. Fuck, he looks like a high school delinquent at the bottom of the pecking order. Why did that come out so _mean_? Yeah, they have something of a meanie couple dynamic, bu— _you two are not a couple. What are you thinking._

Jihoon is gone, and so is the evidence of whatever the fuck he was up to. 

☆

_CLXXXIX: Minhyun’s Personal Herbal Protection Sachet:_

_Waxing gibbous—not ideal, not inauspicious_

_The weather is getting colder. It’s the first time I’m actually shivering on this roof. Good thing there’s little wind, my candle wicks aren’t really made for the outdoors. Remember to bring a jacket next time._

_In other news, I don’t think the confusion charm is working on Woojin. AT ALL. He caught me cutting the square for the sachet, he definitely saw what I was doing. I had to hide the stuff with a goddamn banishment spell—took me half the day to figure out how to recall it back from whatever plane I sent it to. Woojin, my goofy, powerful snaggletooth, can see right through my magic._

_I feel both alarmed and somehow proud._

_Don’t panic, think it through._

_There can be three reasons for this:_

  1. _The spell is wearing off_
  2. _I messed up and forgot to properly define the influence boundaries_
  3. _Woojin is magically inclined_



_The spell isn’t wearing off, I know it’s working and will work until Samhain, which is still a month away. So that does away with number one._

_At first glance it seems the most plausible that I messed up, as much as it pains to admit. But my spell was proven true by befuddling and misdirecting the sharpest among us. The boundaries are secure, they really are._

_Leaving that which was once least and is now most likely. Dear lord holy fucking shit. Park Woojin may be magically inclined._

_Don’t. Panic. Woojin doesn’t know to suspect the supernatural, let along investigate that lead. I may have some time before… what? A big reveal? I’m really not supposed to clue people into this world. Ever._ _But seriously? The chances of both of us being magically sensitive and finding and befriending each other in Seoul of all places are...arraghggh I’m too flustered to calculate. Really fucking low._

_Maybe it’s just some intense luck, mere chance, just that inescapable chaos. Wow, okay. I can’t deal with Woojin shit right now. Let’s do some fucking herbalism. One, two, SLATE._

_Collect:_

  * _1 teaspoon aniseed_
  * _1 teaspoon dried cloves_
  * _1 stick of cinnamon_
  * _1 teaspoon black peppercorns_
  * _3 bay leaves_
  * _White cotton square_
  * _White cotton string cord (substitute cotton ribbon)_
  * _Fond memories of Hwang Minhyun_



_Charge and activate:_

_Spread the white cloth and place all the herbs in the center. Make sure they’re all mixed around before bringing the four corners of the cloth together and tying it off with the white cord. Wrap the cord around the bag three times with three knots. Don’t forget to think of Minhyun during all steps._  

_Cup the sachet in your hands and visualize a white light. Burn it white, soft and bright. The warmth is for Minhyun, from me, from all of us. Channel it into the herb bag, think about Minhyun’s star power, his quiet calm and refreshingly goofy spirit. Protect the surrogate father._

_I think I’m going to slip—_ The door to the roof slams as though someone was purposefully trying to draw attention. Jihoon jumps so hard he flings his pen away into the dark. The only light on the roof comes from the four colored candles and one taller white one illuminating his altar. Whoever is on the roof would be able to see him, but Jihoon can only see a silhouette.

His altar, tools, candles, and herbalism satchel are already disillusioned, as is his entire body, but a bit of apprehension creeps through him. If it’s the very Park Woojin that may be able to see through his spells, Jihoon probably looks like a spooky, candlelit beacon. That’s pretty much exactly what he is, anyway.

He knows it’s Woojin, he just _feels_ it.

Gravel crunches as the person draws nearer.

☆

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i dont understand feelings but clearly neither do my boys so we're all gravy
> 
> twittery-[twitter](https://twitter.com/tinylittlebell)-toopy-too im shy though look out


	3. Woojin Does Magic for the First Time and I’m Going To Die if He Keeps Being So Cute

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Misconceptions come to a head and Woojin takes it all rather well. I mean, it's not every day you realize you're a little bit in love with your best friend and he tells you that magic is real. 
> 
> But we do get to do some magical herbalism.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow this came out cuter than i could have imagined
> 
> sentou kaishi means "battle... begin!" in japanese. if you've ever played a japanese fighting game they say it every single fucking time you start a fight 
> 
> i love magic seriously i know i say this every time but wow i love making up rhymes
> 
> (*｀□)<炎炎炎炎 (⊙_☉)

☆

After opening the door to the roof as softly as he can, Woojin takes a quiet step out and holds the door open cautiously behind him, knowing it will make a louder sound shutting than opening. There’s small stone gravel lining the roof floor, and he places his two feet gingerly to avoid the telltale crunch. It’s cold up here. Woojin waited up for Jihoon to be back from his radio engagement, and even later until Jihoon thought everyone was asleep and snuck away. Some five minutes later Woojin slipped out to find him.

Well, he found him.

Jihoon sits crosslegged in the very center of the roof, writing in a thick leather-bound journal by the warm light of five candles. They’re arranged in semi circle, around the outer edge of a low circular table. The glow casts Jihoon into a surreal, almost magical light and Woojin is absolutely _stunned._

 _Okay, no, too far._ It’s just too much. Woojin slams the door closed behind him, jarring him from… what was he doing, _ogling_ him? He was ogling his best friend.

Jihoon jumps wildly at the loud noise, almost knocking over the tall white candle in his shock. He turns his eyes straight to the door, straight at Woojin, actually, but can’t actually see him yet. It’s right _now_ , their confrontation is seconds away, and Woojin feels a sudden strike of panic. He hadn’t considered it before this moment but whatever happens next might _—will—_ have a huge impact on their relationship. Woojin may have messed up big time, actually. 

 _Fuck it,_ he nods to himself and starts to walk slowly closer, approaching the light and the boy within it. This is all very dramatic on both their parts, but rolling with each others punches is an active part of their dynamic. Maybe even the basis of it.

“Good morning,” Woojin finally says, technically correct. He smiles as Jihoon gasps in recognition at his voice. He speaks low and sweet, a reversal of how grumpily he had treated Jihoon last, “Are you ready to tell me what you’re doing?"

With what he thinks are confident strides, Woojin reaches the edge between shadow and light and Jihoon freezes before gaping up at him. He looks absolutely shocked and _boy_ is it a cute look on him. Now that they’re only a meter or so apart, Woojin slips his hands in his pockets and waits for a response. Jihoon looks kind of radiant, every inch of exposed skin seeming to glow with more than just candlelight. It’s not like Woojin wasn't aware that his friend was a beauty. He has eyes, hell, someone without eyes would probably know.

Woojin knew it, but it’s not until this moment that he _feels_ it. Feels it spark through his blood from his fingertips to his toes.

There’s a new expression on Jihoon’s face. A bastard of anger and confusion but without the bite he's come to know precedes Jihoon smacking him in the face. His gaze is distrustful, and something in Woojin’s gut tells him he's more afraid of what his reaction will be than anything.

In the end, Woojin doesn’t really know what he’s reacting to so he plays the ace up his sleeve—a promise Jihoon might not even remember making to him. Worth a shot.

“You owe me one True Answer.” Woojin states, crossing his arms over his chest. He’s cashing in on the reward Jihoon had promised long ago, before Woojin’s 1st place finish during Get Ugly.

_("I-I mean come on, you're all single digits. There's no way."_

_"You just need an incentive. How's this: rank higher than me and I'll... Ah! I'll give you a True Answer token."_

_"Is that exactly what it sounds like?"_

_"Yeah, actually. When you cash in, I have no choice but to honestly answer anything you ask. Haaaah, it's kind of fun, isn't it?")_

The only good thing to come out of the Panwink Kiss of Legend is the knowledge that Jihoon keeps his promises. Getting that single True Answer token had required a lot of effort on his part and while he may have blanked on Jihoon's reward during the maelstrom of his win, he never really forgot he earned it. Apparently everything was worth it because Jihoon’s eyes bug out in recognition. Also a cute look. Fuck.

He plays the token. “I use it on this conversation and I ask here and now for you explain all the weird, shady, _obvious_ shit that you’ve been doing since we moved in.”

Woojin is on the precipice of something here, he can feel it.

“Ah. Number three it is...” Jihoon mutters to himself, covering his face with his hands. “Somehow both the worst and best option.”

Uh, what does _that_ mean. Woojin holds himself back from digging right into that last dubious statement and goes for the facts he’s managed to collect. “Nutmeg, cinnamon, peppercorns too. You lurking weirdly against the door? Uh, oh yeah, everyone else in this fucking band not seeming to notice anything? _And_  you cutting that shirt this morning but just... making it all disappear."

Woojin pauses to observe the impact of his words, bracing himself as a cold breeze drifts over the roof and flutters the flames of the candles. It doesn’t look like Jihoon is going to answer him so he presses on. “You’re just… you’re doing a bunch of weird stuff and I… just… can I get my True Answer?”

After a dramatic beat, a huge shiver courses through Jihoon and breaks the strange impasse with accidental cuteness. He’s only wearing a black T-shirt and sweatpants in midnight weather that warrants at least a hoodie.

Maaaaaybe a hoodie like Woojin’s. It will double as a peace offering, something to convince Jihoon that Woojin is on his side. _I’m always on his side, what the hell, he has to know that by now._ Still, his friend's guard is way up and Woojin is not having any of that. With a quick snaggletoothed grin he strips off his sweater and plops it on top of Jihoon’s head with a little _“boop."_ Laughing at the sight, Woojin joins Jihoon seated on the ground, on the other side of his table.

Jihoon looks like he might laugh, but instead stays silent and ends up mouthing _thanks_. He fumbles a bit in slipping the sweater on before managing it and flipping up the hood. Once he’s settled in Woojin is reminded with elation how small Jihoon actually is, swimming in his (admittedly oversized) sweatshirt like this.

After the strangely charged moment finally dissipates, Woojin manages to catch Jihoon’s gaze. His eyes are different than before, more determined, his jaw set resolutely. Woojin has no idea what expression his own face is pulling right now.  

They hold eye contact for an impressive four whole seconds.

“Witchcraft.” Jihoon says, right as Woojin opens his mouth again to ask him again.

...

... pardon?

“W-witch—”

“—craft.” Jihoon finishes smoothly, pinning him with this look that tells Woojin he will incur some serious bodily injury here if he reacts poorly to this. “I’m a practicing Wiccan.”

 _The fuck does that mean though?_ Woojin doesn’t ask this. He just shoots Jihoon with an aggressively skeptical stare. They wait a few prolonged moments before Jihoon hangs his head with quiet drama. “Fine, fine…”

With a huge sigh, Jihoon shakes his newly dark bangs out of his eyes and looks into the flame of the white candle. “You need proof?”

“Of course I need proof.” Woojin mutters, a little exasperated. What the fuck?

Another sigh, this one resigned. In another heartbeat Jihoon’s entire _everything_ changes. He’s still staring into the candle flame, deeper now, both terrified and enthralled with whatever he’s doing. The air around Jihoon—and Woojin now, _what_ —is distorted with hazy ripples like a heat mirage. Woojin has a strange inclination to look into the flame too, and does. That’s when it flickers in a burst and Jihoon speaks in a rolling chant both soft and clear,

_“I am warm, I am fire._

_This warmth is not just my desire._

_Cast it to a worthy friend,_

_Let the heat between us blend._

_Make the death of this flame_

_Bring him warmth of the same_ — _"_

Jihoon blows out the white candle and finishes,

 _“_ — _So mote it be.”_

It’s immediate. A rush of warmth, like stepping into a hot shower only Woojin feels it _inside_ , moving through his nerves and arteries and reaching every inch of him. There’s a softly curling, somehow painlessly electric feeling accompanying the warmth, and that itself feels very much like… well it feels like Jihoon. His essence, or soul, or magic, or whatever the hell this is. Woojin knows _feeling_ Jihoon like this is fucking insane but how can feeling him in the warmth be any less possible than Jihoon casting a spell to share his warmth in the first place? Logic.

“Pretty cool, huh?” Jihoon looks very pleased with himself. Then again, he just did _magic._ Woojin must be dreaming, maybe he dreamed the last two weeks of Jihoon’s Wiccan activities. That actually makes more sense than this.

“I know what you’re thinking: _well this is fucked up, I must be dreaming so for now I’m gonna roll with it_.” Jihoon nails his Woojin impression, putting an elbow on one of his knees and resting his jaw in his hand.

Uh, can he read Woojin’s thoughts?

“Now it’s something like: _is he reading my thoughts?_ ” Somehow Jihoon’s smirk is deepening, and the light of four candles casts sharp, severe shadows that put a dark edge to his facial features. For an imagined moment, Woojin finds his grin actually _evil_ , but then it shifts immediately into a sincere, lopsided smile. Not the painstakingly perfected stage smile, either. It’s the one they share when they gossip about the members and team up to pull pranks. 

He trusts that smile. “ _Can_ you read my thoughts?”

Jihoon bursts out laughing before clapping a hand over his mouth to stifle it. He shakes his head fondly. “No, but I _can_ read them on your face like a normal best friend would.”

Holy shit, Woojin is still warm, still feeling tingles of Jihoon in that warmth. He’s probably _exactly_ as warm as Jihoon right now, sitting pretty in Woojin’s hoodie. Witchcraft, huh. Does that mean Jihoon can feel some magical essence—magical signature? Soul energy?—of Woojin? He wonders what this feels like on the other end because it all feels _very_ intimate to him.

Woojin actually opens his mouth to ask about the _feeling_ , but the little witch has a different game plan.

“Want to do some magical herbalism?” Jihoon asks cutely, controlling his tone so well that he sounds like he’s asking for the time.

...

“... Excuse me?”

Jihoon indicates the candles and table before him with a dramatic flourish. “I was going to charge a herbal protection sachet for Minhyun-hyung before you came slamming in and discovered magic is real—your own fault, by the way.”

Woojin scoffs lightly but Jihoon proceeds onward. “I haven’t even started yet. So. If you can really see through my concealment charms and are going to hang around, you might as well help me.”

But Woojin isn’t a witch…? Wiccan? Whatever, but he’s _not_. “I can’t do magic.”

Something soft and fond flickers over Jihoon’s face. “We are all limitless, Woojin.” Okay, _cryptic_. “Don’t you trust me?”

“Loaded question.” Woojin shoots back, stalling.  

Jihoon pretends to be offended for a second before pinning Woojin with a wicked little grin. “Sorry loser, the warmth spell wouldn’t have worked if you didn’t. Welcome to my world, Park Woojin. Now, for the love of the goddess, just help me do some fucking herbalism.”

Roll with the punches. In a way Jihoon has always looked pretty magical. Pretty and magical. Bring on the herbs and spices, Woojin is rolling with this one. “I… yeah. Okay.”

“Just follow my lead.”

Flipping smoothly into business mode, Jihoon places the square of T-shirt in the center of his table and lays the white cord on its left. There’s a well-worn leather satchel open at Jihoon’s side displaying herb jars, small leather bags, and unidentifiable liquids in little glass vials. It’s all very witchy. Jihoon _is_ a witch, that’s probably why. Fucking hell. He can do magic and Woojin is about to help him. Woojin is about to do magic.

Somehow the absurdity of the situation pales in comparison to Jihoon’s sudden professionalism, a quick and unforgiving shift into whatever role he fulfills in this— _Jihoon’s_ —magical world. Despite still processing the whole _magic is real lol_ thing, Woojin knows he has to be ready for this. If this really is the answer to the Question Mark, so mote it be. 

“Okay, you have four tasks.” Jihoon instructs, handing him a matchbox and holding up 4 fingers. “Light the white candle when I tell you to, tie three knots when I tell you to, cover my hands with yours when I tell you to, and think of why you like Minhyun when I tell you to. Just do what I say, okay? Easy peasy sachet squeezy.”

He looks at Woojin as though expecting him to laugh. “You’ll get that joke after we do this.”

Really...? Woojin kind of just has to nod. It sounds easy. How can this be magic if it’s… well, _easy?_ How did Jihoon learn this stuff? Woojin has questions, many questions. _Did you cast a spell to get 2nd place in Produce 101? Did you give Daehwi and Jinyoung a love potion? Did you give ME a love potion?_ He doesn’t ask any of them.

Roll with the punches, don’t mess with the magic. Woojin is still nursing a tiny glass of disbelief. It could all just be a stress-induced dream, but seeing Jihoon so adept and charismatic like this is taking his skepticism apart piece by piece. He wants it to be true now. It... is true?

“Sweet. Here we go. Okay, _sentou… kaishi!_ ” Jihoon drops some quick and competent Japanese before rubbing his hands together, his eyes starting to take on that otherworldly gleam. Suddenly he claps once and dictates, “Park Woojin, light the white candle.”

_Heh?_

“W-what, already?” Woojin fumbles with the box before sloppily extracting a match and only managing to light it on the third strike. He growls a bit at Jihoon who's trying very hard not to laugh openly at Woojin's struggle. In another moment he has the candle lit.

Jihoon uncorks a vial of small oval seeds he can’t identify and shoves it under his nose. “Aniseed, remember it by smell. Quite nice, no?”

It smells heavy and a little sharp. He just nods and Jihoon empties the vial into the middle of the cloth. What follows is a vial of dried cloves, a crumbled stick of cinnamon, another vial of peppercorns, all introduced by name and scent. It’s all very professional but softly so, as though Jihoon was actually trying to impart this knowledge to Woojin. With his left hand, Jihoon begins to mix and muddle the herbs together before topping it with three bay leaves.

He nods, satisfied, and deftly fastens the bag by wrapping the cord around three times and holding the remaining string ends out for Woojin. “Tie three knots.”

Woojin obeys him, alarmed and intrigued. One, two, three. Not so hard. Is something supposed to be happening? Visions or smoke or bubbles? Something? Is this really the answer to the Question Mark?

Jihoon then smiles and takes the little bag back from Woojin, cupping it in his hands and letting his fingers close softly and naturally around it. He squeezes once before relaxing his hands again. “Hands on me, Woojinnie.”

_If only._

“Points for rhyming _and_ reference.” Woojin mutters back. He covers Jihoon’s small hands with his longer fingers to join him in cupping the bag, and is a little surprised to find the sachet pulsing with enough heat that he can feel it through Jihoon's fingers.

The Witch Jihoon— _wow, this is my reality now—_ has been smiling since the compliment and, sure, it’s impossible to know when the lighting is so moody, but he's pretty damn sure Jihoon is blushing now that they’re touching. Woojin's going to go with that, he needs a win here.

“Think of Hwang Minhyun. What you admire and love about him. Think of some time when he helped you or protected you, some display of the very reason you’re happy to know and be known by him. And seriously, stop fidgeting.”

Jihoon has his eyes closed, and Woojin eventually follows suit. _Compliment Minhyun-hyung? Easy._  He’s the steward of the introverts, the best at subtly including the people who aren’t sure how to include themselves. He’s so hard working and still so lighthearted despite all he’s been through. Minhyun is like the cool, laid back dad that lets the kids drink beer and and goofs up teaching them card tricks. He's essential. They don’t have much in common but Woojin is pretty sure the band would rip apart at the seams without Hwang Minhyun.

They sit like this for a while, for an _uncomfortably long_ while, and eventually Woojin gathers the courage to peek one eye open. Just to check. 

To his shock, Jihoon is staring right at him with that magic glint and a fond little smile. The spell has clearly been over for at least five seconds, but Jihoon just let him sit there with his eyes closed, probably to see how long Woojin would keep it up. The little witch.

“Way to go!” Jihoon cheers condescendingly. The mood is more playful than it has been between them in a while. “You just helped cast your first spell.”

Woojin gapes at him. With a cute giggle Jihoon nods pointedly, as though affirming, _you really just did magic._

“T-this is it? This is your…” Woojin trails off, adding both _magic is real_ and _jihoon is a witch_ into his investigation equation. It actually fits. "Wait... Hyunbin is _your_ doing, isn't it?” No way. “You’re acting like this because you’ve been, fuck, casting spells? Jihoon, what. So… okay maybe I need to—"

“What you need is more faith in me.” Jihoon rolls his eyes, pocketing the sachet into his leather bag.

A defensive counter, very Jihoony of him. There’s still tension here, a lingering prickliness both hesitant and calculating. Jihoon clearly doesn’t think Woojin believes him but he’s not mad about it, per se. It’s more like he’s sad, crestfallen even. It is not as cute a look on him. Woojin can still feel the sparks and whorls of Jihoon’s magic, still feels as warm as he would in his sweater despite his magical best friend being the one wearing it.

If Jihoon were mad at him for being skeptical Woojin might find this all harder to believe. But no, he’s _let down_ by Woojin, rejected and resigned and a whole bunch of sincere and painful emotions that Woojin doesn’t want to see on his face. He wants the conspiring little smiles back.

“Hard to believe in someone—” Woojin breaks off when Jihoon’s eyes flick to his, finally angry. Woojin keeps going, he has to. “—when they don’t even tell their best fucking friend that they can do _magic._ "

Woojin might remember this moment for the rest of his life: Jihoon was one gear away from lashing out, but the affirmation brings his rage crashing to a confused halt as he comprehends that Woojin is most bothered by the fact that he didn’t share his secret.

With a small, _“huh…”_ Jihoon tilts his head to the left. “You… what? You actually believe me?”

He can’t help but laugh loudly. Too loudly for midnight. Somewhere between Jihoon’s fluid competency and resigned melancholy, Woojin chose to believe in magic. “What you need is more faith in _me._ ”

Jihoon starts to laugh incredulously, shaking his head and dragging his fingers down his face. “I can’t even believe this.”

“And here I thought you knew…” Woojin mutters, laughing to and at himself. “2nd Place Maroo Trainee Park Jihoon, I'm always in your corner. You could... yeah actually, you could commit homicide and I’d still jump at the chance to help you dispose of the body. Don't forget that."

Jihoon is definitely blushing now, but he's looking at Woojin deeply, with a sudden heavy intensity. The same eyes that cast the warmth spell—the magical gaze. Eventually Jihoon breaks his reverie and smiles. "I won't forget."

It's silent for a heartbeat before Jihoon laughs unattractively, actually blowing out two of the small candles. “Really though? Of all people… seriously, of _all_ people to be magically inclined, it ends up being you.”

Uh…? “What does that mean?”

Jihoon shoots him a shitty little grin. Uh oh.

“It means I may have found a cute little apprentice."

☆

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heeeehhhehehehe


	4. Jihoon Is A Very Scary Teacher but I’m Definitely More Attracted Than Afraid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things are going pretty well, actually. Until a baby bird smashes an enchantented plant and things start to get wicked. We're talking Wicked Witch, cooking children in a candy house, flying-monkey slaves caliber of magical mishap.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [this](http://www.judyhall.co.uk/wp-content/uploads/2015/07/Eye-of-the-Storm.jpg) is the eye of the storm and [this](https://img0.etsystatic.com/206/1/15413768/il_340x270.1229102770_2t2e.jpg) is rose quartz

_III: Blending and Powering Essential Oils for Topical… Something_

_Waning(?) Gibbous, I don’t know what that means_

_Well, I’ve been fucking around with magic for a good week now. First I had to enchant my Book of Shadows, which actually included blood. My blood. I had to spill my fucking blood right there on the first page, and then sign my name with it. So morbid. Jihoon says the only thing scary about blood is losing it, and it's so creepily profound that I can't even fault the logic. Within moments this creepy-ass book absorbed the blood, sucking it in like a parched plant. It was cool and creepy and... real. Magic is real. I need to keep reminding myself of that._

_Next spell, and technically my first solo gig, worked actually?! It was the Banishment Spell that Jihoon used when I caught him cutting up his shirt. I basically just banished a snapback into another plane of reality. Poof. Gone. Jihoon brought it back though, and the hat was very cold, so that’s interesting. An ice plane? Absolute Zero or something? Cool. Jihoon is really vague about a lot of this stuff though._

_He’s kind of an airhead, really. Not the best teacher. Jihoon can be either dismissive or completely rabid in his teaching methods. It’s all learn by doing and I gotta say I’m getting used to it. Jihoon somehow has 5 fucking years of experience at this. I have a week._

_Still, I’m Magically Inclined, which Jihoon is (of course) being very cryptic about. Something tells me it’s… well it’s that very thing that TELLS ME. My intuition, or sight, or sense. Not everyone can tap into the magical current—it takes that special inclination, a sense of perception and awareness of something that is at once higher than myself and also IS myself. Jihoon sometimes says it's like being two people at once, but one of the two exists in another dimension._

_Fuck, he’s right though? There's more to it than that—it's an awareness of two things that shouldn't be together but also clearly do. How do I express this..._

_It’s like seeing with your nose, or tasting with your ears, viewing the color yellow and hearing a C note. It’s deeper than that, though. It’s a quiet sixth sense that loops and weaves and ties the other five senses together, compounds it, makes magic._

_Literal fucking magic._

_Anyway, Jihoon has me doing his dirty work as practice. I have to mix him his standard magic oil blends because he’s too lazy to do it and technically I did accidentally drop and shatter his last bottle of anointing oil like… yesterday._

_1 bottle of Gemini Oil (increases a Gemini’s powers upon topical application)_

  * _1/8th a cup of Coconut Carrier Oil_


  * _4 drops Lavender_


  * _1 drop Peppermint_


  * _1 drop Lemongrass_


  * _1 drop Sweet Pea Bouquet_



 

_1 bottle of Scorpio Oil (ditto for Scorpios, I’m assuming this one is actually for me)_

  * _1/8th a cup of Coconut Carrier Oil_


  * _3 drops Pine_


  * _2 drops Cardamom_


  * _1 drop Black Pepper_



 

_3 bottles of Anointing Oil (my bad Jihoonnie)_

  * _1/8th a cup of Coconut Carrier Oil_


  * _5 drops Sandalwood_


  * _3 drops Cedarwood_


  * _1 drop Orange_


  * _1 drop Lemon_


  * _Rinse and repeat_



 

_2 bottles of Energy Oil (boy do we need this)_

  * _1/8th a cup of Coconut Carrier Oil_


  * _4 drops Orange_


  * _2 drops Lime_


  * _1 drop Cardamom_


  * _Rinse and repeat_



 

_So, I should probably get to work. More later._

  
  
☆

 

Park Woojin is currently _not at all okay_. In fact Jihoon thinks he may be having something of a war flashback, back to the beginning of Produce 101. Not the borderline hyperventilation during the final ranking, and certainly not his fatalistic attitude before Get Ugly.

No, it’s none of those. It's his unyielding fear of singing.

Honestly, Jihoon thinks Woojin has a fine singing voice. Sure, it’s no Jaehwan shattering windows, nor is it Seongwoo wholeheartedly exceeding expectations. Woojin has a lower register, quite like himself, and really it’s not difficult to see _why_ he’s so insecure about it. There’s an idea in this industry that rapping is for people that can’t sing, as opposed to the reverse. It's also not a very friendly world to lower register vocalists either. Woojin might be taking this to heart more than expected.

More sensitive than he would like everyone to think, Woojin covers his insecurities with his strengths. Jihoon finds this rather healthy, except for the fact that it means he doesn’t get around to managing those complexes as he should. Woojin can handle his own emotions and in no way is Jihoon trying to change who he is and how he chooses to live—it’s more like Jihoon wants to enlighten him on new ways that he can be Park Woojin.

There isn’t really anything Jihoon would change about him, even if he could. They work very well together on a level that’s more than just being the same age and sharing hobbies.

There was a radio show some time ago where Woojin was asked to sing one line of a song in a role switch game, and he did, but not before revealing how scared singing made him. He sounded fine, actually better than even he expected from himself. On the outside he was fine, he was _cute_ and Jihoon can actually remember saying that out loud, which is a little embarrassing now that he’s thinking back. Inside though? Jihoon thinks Woojin admitted that singing makes him nervous to lower everybody’s expectations—which in the end implies he fears not meeting them in the first place. Preemptive image control to deal with his less-than-stellar faith in his singing. That's all fine, but Woojin probably doesn't think it's fine. 

Or Jihoon could just be wrong. Regardless, Woojin gets singing stage fright and today they’re recording vocals. Woojin’s not tasked with high notes or technique, just that lovely sort of rap-singing that he knocked out of the park during Always. Still, he looks like he'd rather jump out of the window than arrive at their destination.

They’re in the van, temporarily stuck in gridlock traffic and quite late to recording. Being delayed to meet his doom has put Woojin in an anxious little rut and sitting next to him, Jihoon can quite plainly feel his… frustration, fear. Definitely some volatility. Woojin deals with his emotions deeply, in the secret safety of his heart and mind.

Good thing Jihoon is armed with the perfect stone to help.

Eye of the Storm, it’s called, an interesting combination of jasper and agate that, quite frankly, looks like a mess. Rust red and dark teal, the layers of colors mix and meld into patterns that feel at once chaotic and steadfast. Eye of the Storm facilitates a strong central core, a sense of trust in one’s self. It’s the stone of immediate stress relief, not for its calming properties but for its recognition and opening of potential.

If there’s anything Woojin needs right now to clear his head of his singing insecurity, it’s a new awareness and trust in himself. From the start Woojin has taken more of a shine to crystals and stones, to the earthier magics. He’s also decidedly more interested in the water element than Jihoon. It suits him, the strength and core of earth and the emotional expression of water.

Yet despite finding an affinity for earth magic, Woojin always forgets to bring the crystals and stones along with him during his daily activities. Idiot. Jihoon doesn’t play well with crystal magic but he sure as shit carries a few around with him. Hell, the basis of power for the Befuddlement Necklace is obsidian, and he uses that like 80 times a day.

The pair of them are sitting with their thighs and shoulders pressed together, with Woojin on the end against the edge of the car and Jihoon right beside him in the middle of the back row. Everyone is getting antsy because of the delay and because being late while not moving is at least three times as painful as making actual progress while late. Seongwoo and Jisung are getting noisy quickly, aided by an energetic Guanlin and Daehwi.

“By the pricking of my thumbs—” Jihoon whispers, leaning more into Woojin’s space. He turns his head towards him in a snap, eyes blown but they soften immediately. Jihoon can’t help but smile. “—something is scaring the shit out of you.”

Woojin actually laughs and looks surprised that he did. He’s already a bit calmer. “Singing fucks me up.”

“I know.” Jihoon mutters softly. “Hell of a time to forget your rose quartz.”

Watching Woojin cutely remember that he forgot doesn’t bring the satisfaction Jihoon has come to look forward to when he harmlessly messes up. They’re up on the roof as many nights (and some days) as they can without sabotaging their futures as idols, and it’s always fun. They laugh a lot, tease each other, just their old antics but it feels even naughtier now. Jihoon can sometimes... lovingly haze Woojin during his lessons, but it seems to make him more eager to do well.

Today is different. This isn’t play-fighting, this is something _real_ that has far-reaching future implications for Woojin’s emotional health. This is legitimate psychotherapeutic earth magic, and as it’s the element that comes easiest to Woojin, its efficacy is basically assured.

“No worries, I have something _better.”_   Jihoon continues, slipping his hand into his pocket and taking out the Eye of the Storm. Woojin furrows his brows—this is a stone that Jihoon hasn’t introduced to him yet, and his interest briefly outweighs his dread.

“What’s that?”

Jihoon palms the stone, approximately the size of a misshapen walnut. “Judy’s Jasper, more poetically referred to as Eye of the Storm. Good for redirecting stressful energy into something… healthier.”

“So this is for my nerves? How is that different from rose quartz?” He asks quietly. Jihoon rests his head on Woojin’s shoulder, turning his body into him a bit more so they can converse easier. With his free hand Jihoon is fiddling with the Befuddlement Charm to distract any snoopers, but they’re still talking quietly. It’s very intimate, and Jihoon isn’t sure if that’s what Woojin needs right now but it’s what he’s going to get.

“Not your nerves, more like your perception of yourself. Rose quartz is a trauma stone, it’s a liiiiiittle different. Rose quartz is about self-love—it brings peace to you, a reminder to love yourself despite and because you’ve been wounded.”

“I do have singing trauma though.” Woojin admits. The intimacy is working.

“Then you shouldn’t have forgotten your crystal, dork.”

With a choppy laugh, Woojin just shakes his head and snuggles down a bit so Jihoon can be more comfortable. “Noted. So, what’s the jasper about?”

Jihoon gives himself time to think. “If the rose quartz deals with surviving trauma… Eye of the Storm is about strengthening yourself for what’s ahead. If you talk to it, it’ll probably remind you how talented you are, how nice of a voice you would have if you wanted to try. It’s more about reminding yourself that you’re totally awesome instead of reminding yourself that you’ve survived your wounds.”

“Quartz for the past and jasper for the present.” Woojin grunts. Damn, he even learns earth magic concepts quickly. Jihoon is impressed and he’s actually reminded of finding his own affinity five years ago, when he somehow already understood how to embrace fire before ever doing it.

Honestly, Woojin is just an impressive guy, an all-around standout cutie.

“How do I charge it?” He asks, eyes caught on the stone. It’s pretty despite being irregular and bumpy around the edges. “Or, like, how does it work?”

“Like this.”

Jihoon grabs Woojin’s hand with the one holding the stone, lacing their fingers together and humming lightly. The stone is between both of their palms now, but instead of doing anything witchy Jihoon just adjusts his head on Woojin’s shoulder and closes his eyes.

“Just hand holding?” Woojin asks, a little flustered. Jihoon smiles softly to himself as he feels his heartbeat. 

“Just hand holding.”

 

☆

 

Woojin did quite well during recording. All of Wanna One, actually. Jihoon and he shared the Eye of the Storm energy and probably will from now on. Sharing and holding the stone with Woojin had been more instinctual than foretold. That’s not specifically how crystal magic works. What Jihoon did tapped into both earth magic _and_ another energy source, one more tender and powerful.

A few days later the peace and harmony is still going strong and now every member is sweetly obsessed with the Hyunbin orchids. Minhyun almost died when a stage light fell but by some _magical_ twist of fate he stopped to tie his shoe, halting his steps right before the light crushed his skull. Not too bad for a Simple Protection Sachet, but, if Jihoon is being honest with himself, it was a protection sachet charged by two energies with complimentary elemental proclivities. Magical chemistry is all well and good… but there’s more to it, there has to be.

About half of the members are home; a small group are in the living room playing games and the rest are sleeping or reading or otherwise spending time alone. The domestic peace is a great comfort to them all, something to truly look forward to after a rather hectic month.

Jihoon is in his room flicking idly through his book of shadows for ideas of things to do with Woojin next. He’s employing a technique, something of a magical dowsing that leads his fingers to where they should go. He’s already found an interesting Truth Stone Enchantment, and while there isn’t a ton of water elemental work in his experience, he has managed to gather a few spells that Woojin might take to.

His fingers then flip right to a personal essay he wrote, something of a think piece exploring sex and arousal as sources of magical energy. An image of Woojin smirking flashes through his mind and he shuts his book with a blush and a tiny whine. Not okay, what? Just because he’s spending a lot of time with another witch doesn’t mean they have to fuck.

… right? 

Jihoon slaps both cheeks with his hands.  _ Let’s never think about that again, okay? _ He thinks, and of course his traitorous mind instantly conjures an image of Woojin body rolling his way through Burn It Up.  _ Fuck! _

He’s racing through his mental library of spells for a minor self-inflicted forgetfulness charm when Jihoon feels a quick shudder pass through him, making his hair stand on end. The feeling is unmistakably of magical origin, carrying a note of despair and fear before flicking out, like a candle losing its flame. He knows this feeling, this terrible aspect of nature magic. 

There’s a wounded bellow from the kitchen. _“NOOOOO!”_ It sounds like Jisung.

Nature magic, as seen in the charming of Hyunbin in the first place, isn’t considered an element within witchcraft for the fact that it’s animate. It’s a magic of plants and animals that live and _feel_ , in whatever way they can. Natural magic is at some level a higher class of spellwork, consisting of more facets than the inanimate water or air. It more than an element, it’s a dialogue.

 _“What is it hyung, wha—Oh god! Hyunbin!”_ That sounds like Daniel.

This dialogue, the thing that connects Jihoon to the nature he shares magic with, is a nerve. A sensitive nerve that expresses something quite profound without using language. Jihoon experiences this other thing, feels it until either the charm ends, is cancelled, or something happens to the subject of the magic.

 _“Fuck, what!? No no no, Guanlin what did you DO.”_ That’s definitely Sungwoon.

Jihoon experienced the death of Hyunbin.

 _“I… I… I’m so sorry I wasn’t—I wasn’t watching my elbows._ ” That’s Guanlin.

 _“Lai Guanlin, in the kitchen, with the elbow.”_   And that’s Woojin, quietly referencing Clue. It would be funny if something didn’t just _die._

With a sigh, Jihoon jumps down from his bunk and takes a deep breath before nodding strongly and exiting the room. He feels hollow, clammy, and while he knows the feeling will leave him eventually Jihoon still mourns for the plant, the source of power and love and light in their home.

 _Fucking Lai Guanlin, fucking flailing elbows._ Jihoon is going to have to get another pot of orchids from his mom.

Jihoon reaches the doorway to the kitchen silently, and stands on his tiptoes to see over Jisung’s shoulders. Again, the scene would be quite funny if Guanlin didn’t just murder something.

Guanlin probably hasn’t moved since he knocked the orchids off the counter, his body twisted and hands high in the air as though at gunpoint. Woojin is crouched above the murdered victim, biting his lips and wrinkling his nose, with Sungwoon inspecting the scene like a true blue CSI. Daniel has his hands over his mouth, eyes wide and alarmed sharing the doorway with Jisung, who is still dramatically pointing a finger at Guanlin.

Finally, Jihoon steels himself and looks at Hyunbin’s corpse. The ceramic pot is in pieces, the soil got seriously _everywhere_ (even somehow on Guanlin’s face) and the plant is just lying there, a third of its stems snapped or bent beyond repair. Even the roots are fucked, mixed up with the shards of ceramic and only half-attached to the rest of the plant.

Woojin makes eye contact with him from the ground, holding a single orchid flower delicately. He knows what this means, and even though they haven’t talked too much about nature magic concepts yet, Jihoon wouldn’t be surprised if Woojin could intuit how shitty this feels and has an inkling as to what it implicates.

Jihoon shoots him a sad wince, quickly confirming _yeah that was a magic boo-boo_. Pain isn't the right word for the small vortex of anxiety slowly picking up speed in his chest. Magical mourning, a ponderous weight tugging his heart down into his gut. It's awful and it has to get worse before it gets better. Magic isn’t free and in a way the fact that Jihoon charmed the orchids with double lunar energy means that the fallout from this will be doubly worse. 

It’s one of the caveats of Nature Magic: magical withdrawal. It only occurs if a powerful nature spell is destroyed early, without the proper dispelling procedures. It's a process that must occur to balance the intensity and volume of energy on both sides of the magical spectrum. Until the next full moon three days from now the Wanna One household will completely lose its flow. It’s a natural, corrective reversal of the spell, like a storm being a cure to a loss of atmospheric equilibrium and the display of that instability. 

They’ll take nothing lightly, they’ll seek chaos and division. They’ll form cliques and pecking orders, maybe even shuffle up the allegiances they've enjoyed so far. Their house will be an emotional mess for a few days.

 _Fucking Lai Guanlin_.

☆

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh god fuck something wicked this way comes
> 
> fucking lai guanlin tho
> 
> look i have a [twitter](https://twitter.com/tinylittlebell)
> 
>  
> 
> ([twitter!?](https://twitter.com/tinylittlebell))


	5. I Don't Want To Lose Anyone, Even If It Means Keeping Them In Pain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Love is complicated, especially when it might be comepletely fabricated and actively manipulative. Woojin doubts everything while Jihoon imagines a world where his magic never hurt his friends, where it never existed in the first place. An unlikely duo cuddles and wow, who knew physical contact actually _helps?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO this got a little dark
> 
> i dont even know man, magical withdrawal is the WORST its like even i can feel it
> 
> what iiiiissss this

☆

Woojin lies on his back in bed, arms crossed stiffly over his chest as he stares straight up at the bottom of Jihoon’s bunk. The metal bars supporting Jihoon’s mattress and the wall to his side are home to a number of Woojin’s personal effects _—_ a photo of him with his sister, one with all four Brand New Boys before Produce 101, there’s even a highlighted lyric sheet from his lines in Hands On Me between the bars and Jihoon’s mattress. His Book of Shadows is hidden behind that lyric sheet, not used or perused since…

Well, since this shit all came to a head a mere three hours ago. Hyunbin was dispelled, Jihoon took a magical critical hit, and no one in the house has really talked to each other since. Woojin already feels like he’s aged a decade but somehow also that he’s devolved into his emotionally volatile preteen self.

Magic is real _—_ it is. There is no disputing that fact anymore, not with all he and Jihoon have been doing. Woojin is now capable of some crazy shit _—_ most recently conjuring water from a different dimension and secretly filling up Jisung’s water bottle with the touch of two fingers. Magic _is_ real.

That’s the problem. And it’s actually a _huge fucking problem_ for a number of reasons.

Jihoon may have actually cheated during Produce 101. Why? Because he _could._ Because it was in his power to do so and his dream was on the line. When Woojin thinks bigger, he can’t help but laugh cynically about the idea _—_ unproven so far _—_ that Park Jihoon cast a massively effective spell with an equally extensive range of effect. As in millions of people over the entire planet.

Now that Woojin knows enough about magic he understands that it was _that fucking wink_ that acted as the resolution of the enchantment _—_ the conduit no doubt being the camera and potential energy of media consumption. The fuel could have been the determined spirit and youthful energy of a hundred young men. Oh, and the spell barriers had to be the 101 of them, defining the playing field as him within the rest of them. _I’m missing a piece here._

Barrier, fuel, conduit, resolution. He doesn’t know (has no way of knowing, actually) the exact wording of first piece of the spell: the declaration. Knowing Jihoon, having touched both his skin and his magic, Woojin realizes it was probably something as simple and powerful as, _“Love me.”_

And they _did._ All of them. Strangers and rivals and friends. People who have known him for years and people who don’t even speak their language. Park Jihoon dropped a magical love bomb and rode the shockwave all the way to Wanna One.

If he did, if he really did cheat with magic _—_ _Daniel cheated too,_ something small interrupts from inside Woojin, some softer version of a devil’s advocate. But then what if Jihoon cast some spell weave that helped Daniel get out of that hole? Jihoon has said a few times (quietly, in the flickering candlelight when it’s only the two of them exploring a new world together) that when push comes to shove he doesn’t think he could have handled being Wanna One’s center and that securing the initial stage identity of Wink King was trying enough. Woojin secretly agrees. Seeing all the exhaustion and pressure heaped on Daniel is heartbreaking enough but the thought of _Jihoon_ being subjected to that fate hurts on some level deeper than his heart.

If Jihoon understood that within himself from the beginning, if he needed a scapegoat victor so he could secure second place (or anything but first, that seems more in keeping with Jihoon’s spell syntax to take power from negative space) Jihoon would have made sure that’s the way the chips would fall. He would...

Woojin claps his hands over his eyes before dragging them down his face trying to keep the huge sigh in his heart from escaping his lips. Jihoon calculates. He feels, sure, he feels _a lot,_ enough to fuel his fire, but from what Woojin has gathered by now (and he’s gathered quite a bit) Jihoon prefers the thinker in himself, not the feeler. And, fucking figures, the thinker is the one Woojin hasn’t come to trust yet, let alone predict. Jihoon’s heart is warm and electric, but his mind? That shit is a penrose paradox.

A mind capable of callously orchestrating his ideal victory. A heart powerful enough to weave the spell plot to get it done. A person Woojin knows to be his most immediate, most important connection to what he considers to be his own identity.

But Hyunbin shattered and so did his trust. In _everything_.

So there’s one: Jihoon may have cheated to win, may have done more supplemental cheating to get some of the trainees to the top eleven, may have fooled them all. Woojin re-fucking-fuses to delve into the feelings a bit closer to home, those unfortunate and painful ones that constrict his breathing. His resistance lasts all of two moments before the thoughts come pounding on his heart again, this time with torches and pitchforks.

_Park Jihoon made me love him._

This feeling (thought, understanding, experience, whatever you want to call it) pops up every time his mind manages to wind down. When he resolves a thought the automatic next on the list is the fact that Jihoon’s mass love spell was just as effective on him as it was on the million others. More so because Woojin is magically sensitive, he’s a practicing witch and his connection to Jihoon crosses a number of both nuanced and complicated lines. There’s no way he wouldn’t have been massively affected by the spell in the most critical way imaginable.

And can he ask Jihoon about any of this? About his motives, his power, whatever the fuck he did in Produce 101? No. Because Jihoon is even better at closing himself off than the rest of them and he’s particularly repelled by Woojin right now. Enough to be sleeping in Jisung’s room with him and Seongwoo. Daniel doesn’t seem to be having any of Seongwoo since the Shatter so he willingly swapped with Jihoon and is now tossing and turning on the bed above Woojin.

No one has conversed in more than body language and taciturn whispers and the emotional bonds, the pulses of power that connect one to another have turned into pathways of dispute and rejection. Daniel and Seongwoo didn’t need words to turn their back on the other and Jihoon didn’t even need to look at Woojin to completely dismiss him as soon Hyunbin’s mess was cleared away.

Maybe Jihoon’s afraid _—_ maybe he knows that Woojin is on to him and understands that he’ll be vulnerable to confrontation while he’s still licking his magical wounds. Jihoon needs to be away from him because it’s Woojin who can hurt him the most, especially with so loaded of a confrontation as _"What did you do to me?”_

There’s a precipice here, reminding him of what it had felt like that first time on the roof, when Woojin had strolled out of the shadows into Jihoon’s glow. Knowing he was steps away from possibly ruining _absolutely everything_ between them. It’s a similar feeling now, though Woojin will admit the view from this precipice is much worse.

Woojin can’t possibly love Jihoon. Not for real. Not when his friend _—_ partner, teacher, rival, beloved, take your fucking pick _—_ can manipulate emotions with a couple of herbs, rocks, and rhymes. It’s not like Woojin _would_ love Jihoon anyway. He’s inconsistent and prickly, quicker to trick others than to help them. And then there’s Woojin, possessive and dramatic and sometimes too shy to function. Far beyond being incompatible, they’re both just awf _—_

“Get the fuck out of your head before I remove it from your body.” Comes an almost unrecognizable voice. Jinyoung, the very first to swap sleeping arrangements.

After destroying Minhyun’s magically enchanted plant project, Guanlin was going to take any opportunity to avoid their normally mild-mannered vocalist’s rage, eagerly switching beds with Jinyoung in a mutually beneficial trade to both get away from their current antagonist. Something unspeakable happened between Jinyoung and Daehwi and the older has been rocking a magnificently sour expression since then.

“Excuse me?” Woojin mutters darkly, matching Jinyoung’s acid with an uncharacteristically patronizing eyebrow. “Are we talking now? What happened to the moody bullshit?”

In his own bunk Jaehwan tucks himself deeper into his depressed den of blankets and shuts his eyes as tightly as he can. Daniel shifts too and from the creaking of the mattress above him Woojin thinks his hyung might have turned more into the wall. They don’t want to engage, and neither does Woojin. Unfortunately he already has.

“You looked like you were about to start crying.” There’s a strange lilt to Jinyoung's voice that causes Woojin to stiffen in place and slowly sit up.

“Why the fuck do you care.” He deadpans, tightening his muscles slightly. He’s more physically imposing than Jinyoung but the kid has always been something of a wildcard with it comes to his behavior and Woojin wonders numbly if they're going to get into a fight about this. Whatever  _this_ is, anyway.

"I _don't._ " Jinyoung huffs, channelling the entirety of his underaged petulance into the last word.

Wow. Well, Bae Jinyoung is a fucking asshole and he's looking for a fight right now. Woojin is not in the mood to endulge him. “Shut the fuck up and go to sleep.”

After growling at his dongsaeng, Woojin turns his back to him and curls back under his blankets with a deep sigh. Jinyoung scoffs like a brat but eventually does the same. After some stretch of time Woojin’s eyelids eventually droop but he doesn’t manage to get any real rest in between anxious half-dreams filled with a creeping vertigo and torturous waking thoughts that his feelings for the person he’s probably in love with aren’t real.

☆

_CXCI : Not in the fucking mood_

_Don’t care about the moon_

_Well that’s a lie, I do care about the moon in that I want to never have any more dealings with it. I’m wholeheartedly content to fucking blame that space rock on the entirety of my problems. Jaehwan’s pity party, Jisung crying until he passed out, Woojin’s fucking everything—moon’s fault. Fuck the moon._

_It was almost comical, the aftermath of Hyunbin’s crash. Guanlin fled immediately to the bathroom and didn’t come out until Jinyoung pleaded with him to trade beds for the night. I think Daehwi might have confessed to him which is terrifying mainly because of how livid Jinyoung looked when I saw him last. It didn't end well, whatever it was. I think they're lovely together but then again, they AREN'T together, not really. Their shit was strong and complicated even before the Shatter, I can't really imagine how awful it feels now. I care SO much about them but I just... I don't have the emotional bandwidth to deal with this. What a great fucking friend I am—exaserbating everyone's existing pain like this._

_Jisung's terrible sadness finally overwhelmed his emotional fortitude, Sungwoon just straight up disappeared, Daehwi got hit with a bout depression and honesty and here I am fighting off the urge to self-immolate. It feels like hell's ice, so sharp and cold it actually sears._ _And then there's this lingering panic attack, in case I wasn't feeling disgusting enou—_

Jihoon’s hand trembles violently and he rips the page with the tip of his pen. Figures. After letting out his breath as smoothly as he can manage (not very) he tucks the pen in the pages and closes his Book of Shadows quietly. Jihoon welcomes the hand spasm as a sign to stop writing, to get away from this compendium of his magical history and insight when it’s all just a reminder of how terrible magic can be. It's more out of habit than desire that he had been journaling in it anyway but every word weighs on him as validation for his own rising sense of self-loathing.

Right now all he really wants is to be free of his gift. A life untouched by magic. Jihoon knows it’s possible _—_ in fact it wouldn't be very challenging at all. A few layers of memory erasure charms and a supplemental potion would probably do the job. It would be nice to stop feeling _this._ Clammy, shivering, still riding out the longest magical (and mundane) anxiety attack he has ever experienced. If he erases his magic, would that take away the load on the others? Would it be like opening a thick curtain to a wonderful dawn? Or would this negative emotional contagion continue to destroy their relationships without Jihoon there to correct it?

With shaking arms Jihoon holds his Book of Shadows to his forehead and blows softly over the cover. The simple disillusionment spell works immediately the book blends neatly into the shadows of the unfamiliar room. Jihoon slips it neatly under his _—_ technically Daniel’s _—_ pillow before tucking himself further into bed to fight off the waves of anxiety, dull by now but still _so_ present. He doesn't know how long he lies there, slipping further into the storm of swirling vertigo. 

Jihoon hasn’t activated the obsidian befuddlement necklace for hours, a fact that becomes completely apparent when Seongwoo pops his head up from the bunk underneath the one Jihoon is occupying. Even in the shadows Jihoon can see the distraught pinch to his eyebrows and tenderness of his eyes. “Hate to break it to you Jihoonie, but your panic attack is starting to give me one.”

The joke falls flat, probably because Seongwoo isn’t joking at all. His head bobs out of view for a moment before it appears again and the low groan of weight on metal tells Jihoon Seongwoo is taking a slow step on the ladder. Slow and steady, stretching out his time of approach almost as if to give Jihoon more opportunity to reject him if he wanted to.

Jihoon doesn’t know if it’s sweet or tragic.

“Is there anything I can… ah, I’m sorry.” Seongwoo mutters before backtracking slightly and shaking his bangs out of his eyes. “I _—_ I have no idea what’s tearing up your heart right now but I…”

“I’m fine.” Jihoon nods curtly to Seongwoo. His panic is still present and Jihoon feels like he’s moving too fast compared to the world around him. Maybe the world is the faster one and _he’s_ caught in slow motion. Like most panic it's terrifying but in no way unfamiliar, like a hand beckoning him into oppressive darkness.

“You’re not fine.” Seongwoo smiles sadly. “You’re crying. For real, not that fake  _channel the emotions_ stage bullshit.”

Is he? Jihoon checks with shaking fingers and lets out a chilling laugh when he feels the hot tears. He’s not bawling or anything but who knows how long he’s been slowly leaking like this. It’s mortifying but Jihoon finds himself too exhausted to really feel the embarrassment. Seongwoo inches further up the ladder towards him, now with less caution than before.

“H-had a bad day.” Jihoon breathes and Seongwoo laughs quietly at the understatement.

“You don’t need to explain, okay?” He whispers. They’re both conversing quietly even though Jisung basically cried himself into a coma and isn’t going to wake up anytime soon. “I know that… we’re not, er, in the skinship game really. Together or... you know, in general. But!”

Seongwoo breaks off to laugh self-deprecatingly before nodding decisively. “I’m going to start cuddling you in T-minus twenty seconds because my selfish ass needs some physical contact and maybe you need... I don't know, someone. Me, maybe. Feel free to kick me off the bunk but this is happening.”

Jihoon actually laughs. Only once, but it’s sincere and it feels like he manages to expel some of the twisted energy with it. It’s been a topsy-turvy day and no one knows that more than Jihoon so he nods shakily. Seongwoo cheers quietly as Jihoon rolls over to face the wall and untangles himself from his blankets in order to give Seongwoo access to them. He’s still trembling but sighs softly when he feels Seongwoo climb fully on the bed and join him under the blanket. After a few moments of obvious hesitation Seongwoo wraps his long arms around Jihoon’s waist and pulls him warmly but loosely back into his chest, still giving him wiggle room if Jihoon changed his mind about cuddling.

It’s thoughtful and gentle, a type of protection Jihoon has never seen let alone expected to receive from his formidable and often intimidating hyung. He can’t help but sob again when he thinks about the rest of them, about how awful they must all feel because Jihoon went too hard with his spell. Seongwoo hums deeply from behind him, tightening his arms the smallest bit.

Jihoon could take away this shitty pain. Take away all his magic, including the withdrawal. Erase the memory of his witchcraft, erase the growth of his awareness, of his first experiences with his sixth sense. Delete his memories of all the members in the process. But he isn’t strong enough for that. Jihoon could _never_ lose them _—_ he would rather trap them in this pain if it meant keeping them with him, in his heart and mind.

Then there’s the matter of his cute little apprentice and his beautiful magic: sensual and steadfast like a strong, lazy river and so uniquely  _Woojin._ Jihoon absolutely delights in it and sometimes he dares believe that Woojin might have similar feelings about Jihoon's magic, whatever it form it takes. They're still best friends but also much more, have been something akin to  _partners_ even before Woojin stumbled into witchcraft. He's there, always, Jihoon's anchor through the tempest of stardom.  

He’s not going to give their connection up. He _can't._

Seongwoo has been humming softly into Jihoon’s messy hair for a few minutes by now, a lullaby meant for the both of them. Jihoon finds he has relaxed more into his embrace without realizing it and a sudden fondness for Seongwoo momentarily outweighs the dread in his heart. Suddenly gracious, Jihoon snuggles in deeper and wraps his fingers loosely around one of Seongwoo’s wrists.

“We’ll be okay.” Seongwoo whispers. “Though I’m sure you’d prefer a certain snaggletooth to be the big spoon right now.”

“Shut up hyung.”

“Will do, little spoon.”

☆

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> REPEAT AFTER ME: PLATONIC ONGWINK
> 
> talk to me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/tinylittlebell) i'm shy and disheartened TT


	6. Jihoon Won't Talk to Me So I'm Going to Do Something Awesome and Drastic About It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Their uncomfortable new world dawns cold and sick and Woojin is ready to rip and tear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi hi sorry sorry

Woojin wakes up with a storm in his heart so confusing and beyond the realm of his experience that he suddenly doubts he’s awake at all. Something lurks hazily in his peripherals, some inkling that doesn’t quite feel up to showing its true form. After about a minute of attempting to define exactly what state of consciousness he’s in, Woojin’s blaring phone alarm confirms his reality and he almost cracks his skull open on the wall in his haste to get away from the offending noise.

It takes a snarl and five seconds too long for Woojin to silence the alarm. His heart beats heavily in his chest and as silence falls over the room again he tosses a heavy glance over at Jinyoung in Guanlin’s bed. Unlike last night Jinyoung looks deflated, defeated. There’s none of the fury, only misery as he turns away from Woojin’s gaze to burrow deeper away from them all.

Oh, okay, so now Jinyoung doesn’t want a fight? Woojin woke up _raring_ for one.

He’s more of a pacifist than he likes to admit and, play-fighting aside, it’s really not in his nature to get mean. Woojin doesn’t have Jinyoung’s emo edge or Sungwoon’s cloak of knives—he doesn’t even have Daehwi’s intellect-driven effrontery. Sheer competency is generally his preferred path toward what deference he manages to draw from his bandmates, mainly because he’s never sought the attention and social power that comes from antagonism—whether from the ‘cool kid’ impression it gives off or the bad feelings it takes to reach that sort of esteem, Woojin would still always rather smile than scowl.

But not today. He faces today with a hostile heart and repressed rancor. Given Jinyoung’s surprising docility Woojin might as well have magically absorbed all of his vitriol during the night. Fuck, it may have actually been _magically_ absorbed but can Woojin confirm this? No. He doesn’t really know what’s going on at all, barely even knows if Hyunbin’s demise is the sole cause of the distinct layer of _awful_ that has descended over the dorm.  

Now lacking a victim for his moodiness Woojin strips off his blankets, hissing as cold air nips at his skin before he stomps out of the room, slamming the door behind him with enough noise to make himself flinch. There are sounds of life coming from both bathrooms and the kitchen so there are at least three people already up and about at this fine, predawn hour. He needs to piss but pokes his head into the kitchen instead of wait moodily for the bathroom occupants to finish, only to see a very solitary, very sad Lai Guanlin.

He clutches a steaming mug of tea in his hands as he stands gloomily in the exact middle of the kitchen. Guanlin stares deeply at the spot where Hyunbin once was, mesmerized by the absence. Woojin opens his mouth to blame him for everything (irrationally of course, because this is Jihoon’s fault too) but he catches himself. The sense of vague territoriality he often feels during the rare times he and Guanlin are ever alone together is acutely absent. Even stranger is that there is nothing that replaces it.

“Hey.” Woojin mutters, wincing when Guanlin flinches violently and sloshes his tea as he whips his head to face him. He’s not normally a haughty or supremely confident boy, in fact he has perhaps one of the more temperate personalities in Wanna One, balancing his self-possession with his childishness. There is none of that balance in his eyes this morning—instead he looks 100% certain that Woojin is here to hurt him.

Not even emotionally. Physically.

“Are you—” Woojin starts, taking a slow step in. Guanlin reacts with a step back. “Have you talked to Minhyun-hyung yet?”

Guanlin flinches again and turns back to where the orchids had once been. “N-no.”

“You’re gonna have to. Sometime.” Woojin mutters. Guanlin just nods, broken. Wow, that’s it? That’s all Guanlin sees fit to give him? Woojin regrets engaging in the first place. He retreats from the kitchen and takes advantage of an open bathroom to do his business.

As he pees, he mulls: do the rest of them _know_ that everything is shit? Further than just feeling like hell, do they realize that they’re acting differently than they had been? That something has shifted, or started, or ended, or at the very least changed? How aware are they of what’s really happening?

Woojin finds it hard to believe they haven’t noticed these changes but at the same time they’re all exhausted and their survival in this industry depends on their ability to roll with the punches. If that means there might be physical punches thrown, they’ll probably roll with those as well, determined as they all are to make it. But they don’t _know,_ they don't know that magic now plays a role in their lives. They have no real understanding of what’s actually going on, just that something is _off._  

Then again it’s not like Woojin knows anything either. Sure, he knows that some magical rule was broken, something that seems to have reversed the Hyunbin charm. Woojin understands that Jihoon is perhaps the most severely affected by whatever magical miasma overtook their home. But he doesn’t know why, or how, or what on earth they can do now to crawl back out of this emotional sinkhole.

Jihoon does. Jihoon is the only one with answers here. Woojin takes that upon himself as his task for the day: get Jihoon to explain this murky magical bullshit. Then get him to spill the beans on cheating during Produce 101. Then get him to fucking _admit_ that Woojin is under a love spell. And then… and then _deal_ with that.

Their morning passes by in that same sort of contained silence as last night, where people whisper instead of speak and shoot each other furtive, wary glances. Jihoon manages to wiggle out of each and every single attempt of Woojin’s to talk to him, even going so far as to pretend he was getting a phone call that time Woojin managed to corner him before they got into the van to head in to YMC. Despite all attempts, the closest Woojin gets to some kind of camaraderie with Jihoon happens on accident, when they both simultaneously rise to defend Guanlin against an uncharacteristically belligerent tirade from Minhyun once all eleven finally make it to their main practice room.

Woojin doesn’t see Jihoon after leading Guanlin away to a different room, leaving Jihoon to deal with the aftermath of Minhyun’s blow up. While Guanlin and Minhyun’s clash is absurd in its own distinct way the entire group drew lines in the sand because of it, bringing them into something of a passive, silent civil war. Not only are they being ridiculous, their lack of chemistry is obvious enough for the staff to grow increasingly more worried for the boys as the hours drag on. Their scheduled dance practice is simply awful and not just because they literally had to split the group into two to avoid them jumping at each other’s throats. Guanlin, Woojin, Daniel, Sungwoon, and Daehwi all fled to a smaller, sweatier room away from team Minhyun, but even the five of them can’t find their bounce and end up stretching aimlessly and refusing to work with each other.

When some of the staff ask quiet questions about it, each and every single member shrugs and shakes their heads. It’s not like _they_ know why they’ve lost their flow. Eventually everyone gives up maintaining the illusion that they’re sort of okay and instead gravitates away from each other in favor of individual practice. How much longer was this going to continue for? Days? Weeks? If it's for as long as the initial harmony spell was active then they’re straight up fucked. At this rate they’re going to rip each other apart within the next few days.

One of the few exceptions to the self-imposed distance between them all is odd, for lack of a better description. Sometime during the night Jihoon gained an unexpectedly powerful ally in Seongwoo. It’s strange to see the two maintaining anything that even resembles physical closeness—normally they exist in a strange, half-abrasive dance of mockery and admiration but now Jihoon and Seongwoo are practically acting as each other’s shadows. It highlights more about Magical Withdrawal to Woojin, but just because he now knows that withdrawal is a perfect reversal of whatever magically or mundanely established systems had previously been in place: Seongwoo and Jihoon becoming close because they _weren’t_ before.

After a few more painful hours of poor practice, late afternoon brings each the opportunity to scatter as their schedules flip over. Seven of them wait aimlessly for the fleet of cars that will take them either home or to whatever schedule they had going on. Woojin looks over at Jihoon just in time to spy him rise cutely on his tiptoes in order to whisper something in Seongwoo’s ear. The elder bends his knees slightly to correct the height difference, turning his face inward and closer to Jihoon’s. While the spike of jealousy in Woojin’s chest is predictable, it is no less painful for it.

Regardless of his feelings about it, it’s this unlikely closeness that Woojin needs to somehow get around. After running the situation around his brain he comes to the clear conclusion that he does not want to get on Seongwoo’s bad side, even if it means getting some access to Jihoon. Even if he managed to get at Jihoon like this, it’s not like he’ll explain anything to him—he would just dodge around him within seconds as he has been for the last day. Then there’s the fact that no one really knows what Seongwoo is capable of when it comes down to it, and Woojin doesn’t want to even imagine what darkness he could draw from himself if Woojin really managed to piss him off.

So instead of going through Seongwoo, he has to go _around_ him. Woojin hatches a haphazard plan that involves theft and general idiocy. If he can’t get Jihoon to explain things to him in real life he’s going to ask him in his motherfucking _dreams._

Woojin may be a bumbling novice but he is still a _witch_ and witches have access to different planes of existence, different forms of communication and connection than the mundane world deigns to discover. Woojin already understood the concept of active dreaming prior to this, but the Wiccan Dreamworld blows that concept straight out of the water. It’s a special place, a vault of lucidity and imagination. A world unique to each matured witch and often home to their Familiar—it's the only real safe haven for the ethereal spirit to build thoughts and grow ideas. An individual’s Dreamworld is an abstraction from reality but not a full removal from it, formed by suffusing REM sleep with an individual’s purest magic. 

Woojin is going to gatecrash Jihoon’s dreams. 

The first of three vans arrives and Woojin is the first to slide open the heavy door and slip into the backmost corner, barely acknowledging Jaehwan, Sungwoon, and Daehwi who file in behind him. This is the only car that’s heading back to the dorm, filled with the sad sobs who lack any work today. It’s not to say they’re the _unpopular ones_ , though Woojin would be surprised if those thoughts weren’t invading their minds, the Shatter having created more cracks in their esteem and mental fortitude than they might otherwise have.

They don’t talk, don’t try to connect even and Woojin notes with dark humor that they’re now _physically_ repelling each other. He's in the left corner of the back row, Daehwi is in the right corner of the same, Sungwoon is sitting far left of the front backseat row, and Jaehwan moodily took the front seat. Only the walls of the van are keeping them together. It’s an awful experience but Woojin is getting used to the dull dread of it by now—the rejection and repulsion that is at once extremely valid and nonsensical. The mood was truly volatile before but now has stiffened into something tired and sad, as though the cloud of emotional sickness has fully dispersed and lingers quietly inside of them all.

This can’t go on. As soon as the van arrives home and the boys manage to dodge the camping sasaengs and scatter upon entering the doom. Jaehwan is the only roommate of his that has returned home, but he's already in the shower, so Woojin takes advantage of this fact before even taking off his jacket. He makes it to their room, tossing his bag on his own bed before turning to Jihoon's own personal cubby.

In this dorm they don’t have much more space to themselves other than what they can fit in a suitcase and even though they'll be moving into fresh new digs soon, for now they're subject to tiny personal space limits. Keeping such a secret in a cramped space should be near impossible but Jihoon is a highly capable witch with an enchanted infinity bag that stores much more than it should physically be able to. It’s where they keep the common Wiccan miscellany like lesser gems and spices and also a legitimate cupboard of snacks that management would have their heads if they knew existed.

Jihoon keeps his Book of Shadows on his person as much as is possible given their profession, so Woojin most likely will not be able to use it as a reference but he’s observed Jihoon create his own spells from scratch, and obvious safety issues aside, nothing about witchcraft has given Woojin the impression that he couldn’t do the same. He’ll just have to be extra careful.

Jihoon has been teaching him and Woojin has been listening. He has proven himself extremely capable of absorbing this subject matter, bizarre as it is. Without having to even think about it Woojin knows to grab a good-sized lapis lazuli, lavender, rosemary, and a small vial of black salt as ingredients. After digging a little deeper he grabs three small white candles, Jihoon’s spare athame, and a bottle of Scorpio Oil. Woojin also grabs a bag of chips for good measure.

Once his pilfering is done, Woojin quickly puts everything back in its rightful spot—hoping beyond hope that Jihoon didn’t have some sort of witch trap set up for people trying to do exactly what Woojin just did.

Fuck, he probably does have a trap. Of course he would, this is Jihoon we're talking about. Woojin's still temporarily in the clear though—Jihoon may be good but he doesn't have the patience to sit down and do a full inventory of supplies. He wouldn't notice he’s down candles and herbs and a rock on a good day. And this is not a good day.

Lapis lazuli is a stone with a strong connection to the nervous system and subconsciousness, the perfect anchor for what Woojin has in mind.The rosemary and lavender to induce a heavy, peaceful sleep (ideal but not completely necessary, he doubts anyone is going to get any true rest for a while.) Then the last of their blacksalt, to create the road for his dreamself to find its anchor.

He’s never come up with a spell before, but he understands the bits and pieces of magical improv. Plus Woojin has both instinct and determination on his side and he has always trusted both within himself. Push has come to shove—he is going to enter Jihoon’s dreams and figure out what’s going on from there. Drastic? Yes. But Woojin hasn’t experienced enough magical mishaps to understand the nuances of the flows of power, doesn’t understand the risk of over-reactivity or spell collapse.

He _does_ understand that he need to do something about this.

 

_XIII: Dreamhack_

_The space rock rocks on_

_Hello, dearest Book. I’m about to do something stupid and awesome and since you’re just paper and leather you can’t do anything to stop me. I hope you aren’t somehow connected with Jihoon’s BoS, but if you are, please don’t forewarn him or anything—If Jihoon had any idea I was about to attempt this I’m sure he’d do something nasty. Or he would do nothing and let me fuck up, which is also nasty._

_This is a good idea, right? Dream-crashing? No? Oh, well I'm still going to do it._

_INGREDIENTS:_

_Lapis lazuli_

_Black Salt_

_Lavender_

_Rosemary_

_One hair from the head of the Dreamer: Park Jihoon of the flame and the flower_

_One hair from the head of the Traveller: Park Woojin of the river and the rock_

_Courage, maybe_

_Luck x20_

_Remember Jihoon’s magic—that first shared fire, the curl of his tongue over spell chanting, his soft sparks and sweet flames. It’s softer than velvet but...not always. Sometimes the sparks singe and the fire rages. His words ring electric, demanding and deserving and giving and taking. Jihoon’s magic is the spark of life, something that I’m not quite sure is normal even within this world._

_LIKE I WOULD KNOW, THOUGH._

_BUT. I have already planted the stone in Daniel’s mattress—it has to be deeper than the pillow otherwise Jihoon will find it. I am here assuming that he will take the same bed he did last night, rooming with Seongwoo again—no doubt bonding even more. Even if Jihoon doesn’t sleep in that particular bed, the potency of the lapis (plus my own, er, rock prowess) will affect him as long as he’s in the room._

_The stone is in place, and I have my own altar ready to go. It has to be small, portable, because I’m pretty much astrally projecting myself along a programmed black salt path that leads to the subconscious plane of whoever’s dream world the stone anchors. AKA Jihoon. I got this. I’ll just make the path, skip down the path, and then probably(?) end up where I need to be._

_I can do this._

_I probably shouldn’t do this, but I know I can. I want to. I want to set this shit right, but I can’t do that unless Jihoon and I fix our shit, maybe pair up and reverse this spell with the power of our own magical (and mental and comedic and physical and fucking every) compatibility._

_Wish me luck. I’m about to be the man of Jihoon's dreams._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry again but like, i just gotta... get words out. stay tuned for next chapter actually though because its the dreamworld and also yall get to meet jihoons familiar 
> 
> follow me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/tinylittlebell) and ill follow ya back!


	7. Woojin Managed To Find Me in an Entirely Separate Realm of Existance, Yikes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to the Dreamworld, where grass tastes like strawberry and sunset never sets. Jihoon basically talks to himself the whole time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> short but sweet lets DO this

_/Your man is here./_

A young bobcat tumbles down a grassy hill, paws pounding rhythmically but with this occasional wobble that gives Jihoon a heart attack every time he sees it. Her name is Bwuii and Jihoon isn’t being dramatic when he says she’s an extension of his very soul, the steward and true owner of his Dreamworld. This is the very realm he summons her from—whenever he comes to visit, it is in fact _her_ summoning _him_ into this plane. What populates this world is more a reflection of Bwuii and her prefered environment than any active decision-making on Jihoon’s part. Not that he doesn’t agree with her habitat choices, though, because she is Jihoon. Sort of. Bwuii is part of him like an extra arm or another set of eyes on the back of his head, but sometimes those eyes and that arm have a real mind of their own. Familiars are funny like that.

The nomadic bobcat’s preferred habitat stretches from coniferous tundra to deciduous subtropics, even to deserts and urban areas, and true to form Bwuii’s World is expansive enough to accurately depict a wide range of biomes, obvious in placement but in no way less incredible. Sunless tundra to the north, desert in the south, a small mountain range and matching subtropical tree line dominating the west while grassy plains range in the middle. The plains eventually connect over to rocky cliffs to the choppy waters of the east. The entire plane of existence is the approximate size of a large college campus—breaking the physical and natural rules of Jihoon’s world by allowing disparate ecospheres to exist in such close proximity. You might be trudging through snow for ten quick minutes and suddenly blink and realize you’re in the middle of a rainy season subtropical deluge.

 _/I’m not fucking kidding, Jihoon./_ Bwuii growls, sending a note of annoyance and territoriality along with her regular alto.

“What do you mean _here?”_ Jihoon says this both out loud and over their link, ignoring that initial _your man_ implication.

They’re together in the central plains, slightly west towards the mountains where shining emerald hillocks roll up and down. Lush grass actually sings as the wind sighs through, dotted here and there with patches of bright gold and white wildflowers. Bwuii comes from the north down a surprisingly steep hill without tripping over her paws and begins tearing over to him to deliver her report in person. _/I mean here in my fucking home. He’s in the northeastern willow grove, just looking at things. The willows like him./_

This is very much _not_ what Jihoon wants. He’s emotionally defeated, magically drained, and each and every single one of his defenses have barely even started rebooting. He fucked up his own band, he didn’t think ahead to the implications of compounding lunar energy. There are so many glaring problems that he absolutely has to sort through but the one that actually comes to his fucking door happens to be the one he needs to stay on the back burner.

 _“Why_ is he here?” Jihoon asks, frowning as he looks down at his familiar and scratches roughly behind her tufted ears. The plan was to deal with Woojin after he heals and makes steps towards cleaning up the shatter, not collide headlong with him before getting to the rest of his to-do list.

_/I think it might have something to do with you wanting him here, but what would I know?/_

“Ha ha hah. Funny fun fun.” Jihoon growls monotonously under his breath, looking up and over at the horizon surrounding the central plains, half expecting to see Woojin. “How can he be here though? My here, your here. The Here.”

_/Well you did teach him, you know, MAGIC./_

“You know it's more complicated than that.” Jihoon growls.

 _/I know you shared our everything with him. Why wouldn't that extend to this particular world?/_ Bwuii mutters cheekily, suddenly more amused than annoyed.

 _“_ Because this is our world. He can’t be here. But he's—”

_/Very here. Very present./_

It’s not to say that Jihoon hasn’t taught him about this place or that Woojin has been a poor student of their craft but he would have _never_ expected Woojin to be able to summon himself into this particular space. Maybe the Shatter affected him even more than he thought (if that was possible), enough to leave a gaping breach in his defenses.

 _“_ And he’s… sound? He’s okay?”

She laughs brightly. _/He's confused. Dazed would be more accurate. Head’s up—he’s wearing that outfit you really like on him, from that one fanmeet. Hair is pulled back, eyebrows are on full power. His appearance is more a symptom of your brain populating his astral body on our plane than any sophistication of his amateur-ass spellcasting, sure, but he DOES look good./_

 _“I_ don’t like that look on him, the _fans_ do.” Jihoon covers, blushing. Lying. “And fuck you, he’s not really an amateur anymore.”

Bwuii laughs. _/Yes he is. Talented sure, but an amateur regardless. He managed to get here but didn’t know to visualize his own clothes for the astral projection./_

“Well it’s a good thing this place is sophisticated enough to do that for him.”

 _/‘Good thing’, sure, let's call it that./_ She scoffs and rolls her eyes which is quite the feat considering she’s a bobcat and shouldn’t be able to make human expressions in the first place. _/Sophisticated enough to pick his appearance but not enough to stop him from getting in./_

“You judge and you judge and I still don’t really know what you really think of him.” Jihoon smiles down and nudges her playfully with his toe.

 _/I like him. I like him because you like him./_ She explains, swatting softly at the offending foot and pouncing away to dart after a wayward butterfly. _/But I also DON'T like him because you like him./_

“Explain.” Jihoon chews at the inside of his mouth, tracking his eyes up the nearest hillock and higher, up towards the light gold, teal, and periwinkle sky, the first dregs of a shifting sunset that will take hours to finally reach twilight. Jihoon likes sunsets, especially when they last.

 _/If he hurts you, I’ll hurt him. And he CAN hurt you, Jihoon./_ Jihoon imagines her shrugging at him even as she hugs low to the ground stalks after a grasshopper.

“He won’t. Also fuck you, what are you even talking about?”

_/Um, well his aggro today was out of this world, you think he doesn’t still have a bone to pick with you?/_

Jihoon just wanted to have a nice night in his own quiet Dreamworld—strolling the rolling hills of soft grass during a shifting but eternal sunset. Instead he has his own magical soul in wild cat form telling him that the apprentice he’s kinda-sorta falling for has infiltrated his personal world in order to come at him with something. “Yeah, okay, but why would he come all the way here?”

This perhaps the third time Jihoon has asked _why_ and Bwuii has new answers for him packaged in casual mockery and a tiny ribbon of affection. _/Probably because you’ve been ignoring him. Pointedly, in that way that’s actually giving him more special attention for it. Probably because you two synced up like the motherfucking Lovers and you don’t get to just reverse that, even during Withdrawal./_

“OH-kay, slow your roll there. It’s not like I’m actually in—”

_/Get over yourself, Jihoon. It was a crush two months ago./_

“Shut your tiny mouth—”

_/—it’s the big scary L-word now. You can deny it but I’m, you know, your SOUL. I know how often you stare, I know what happens to your heart when he looks after you. Seriously. Every time you have the passing fancy to hold his hand I basically get a push notification. He feeds you and your heart swells? I’m notified. You do something pointedly to get his attention? Ping! He does anything that’s sort of cute? Ping ping ping!/_

God, Bwuii can be such a brat sometimes.

Still, he’s not really sure when his _feelings_ for Woojin started—sometime in Produce 101, he thinks, but that may have been strictly _admiration_ instead of anything else. It was an interesting time for him, too busy and too heavily-monitored to get any witchcraft done except for his monthly lucky charms to his family down in Masan, the recharging of which didn’t take an altar. He briefly considered getting some shit done (weave some vitality spells for his prefered trainees, maybe sabotage the ones who stood in the way) but he lacked the time, materials, space, and, well, energy.

Witchcraft isn’t just horticulture and rhyming—each time he taps into that flow of power, the power taps into his own. It’s part of the reason he can’t just snap his fingers and bust a rhyme to neatly clean up the aftermath of the Shatter: he alone doesn’t have enough power to reverse such an enormous and nuanced spell. Jihoon couldn’t have sent any charms or hexes at the other trainees if he wanted to retain enough energy to compete with them in the first place, so he didn't.

It took a while for them to gravitate towards each other, especially considering moving in different team and class circles. Because he was comfortably ranked for the entire duration of the show he ended up having more time to observe and consider the progress (and often digression) of his competition—and Woojin was no exception to this investigative strategy. It’s difficult to be both fantastic and consistent, especially when you start from the bottom as Woojin did, and politics of the show more or less prevented Jihoon from being able to mingle with Woojin before he started climbing in the ranks. Shy but powerful, Woojin was a force to be reckoned with—a fact known to pretty much every trainee but himself. Confidence was an issue in the messy middle, but after being fed by a mess of sincere compliments and his eventual blindside victory during Get Ugly, Woojin became unstoppable. Not even a painful viral infection could get in the way of him reaching the top 11. That there, Get Ugly, was probably where their connection solidified.

_/Plus the eyepatch was pretty hot./_

Right, Bwuii is in his head. “Shut up. Can you go kick him out or something?”

 _/Yes, but I'm not going to. Why are you avoiding him?/_ She asks, killing the last bug in her general vicinity before bounding over to him in a rush of spotted fluff. He crouches down to be at her level and bops his forehead against her own before finally just giving in and sitting straight on the fresh grass with her. The blades hum as he puts his weight on them, a soft sweet tenor.

_/Come on Jihoon, talk it out. What's got you running?/_

Running his hands through his hair viciously, Jihoon moans out loud. “Just… _because._ He looked so _angry_ today and, not to like, assume, but it was most likely because of me, because of all this fucking nonsense and magic and me, whatever I’ve... I’m just… I’m just _tired_ and he’s so mad at me, I don’t know what good it will do for him to just—fucking… I just want this to be over with, I want it to be _done_.”

 _/I know you’re tired./_ Bwuii admits kindly, snuggling into his lap. _/You’ve done so well, Jihoon, but you can’t keep hiding alone. It’s scary thinking about what happened—it’s been a while since a spell collapsed on you like this. There’s a lot to clean up but you’ve only let it fester._ _You are a fantastic witch, Jihoon, but this is beyond your capability to fix alone./_

She seems to want to continue wherever this complicated half-reprimand was going but is interrupted by a loud, familiar bellow. “HOOOOOONNNIIEEYYA~AH!”

It’s scratchy, it’s powerful, it’s definitely Woojin. Far from being shocked by Woojin’s proximity, Jihoon feels tendrils of dread creep around his heart, slowly, as though they had been growing for days.  

_/But here’s the thing—you’re NOT alone anymore./_

“WINK WINK WINK WINK, JIHOONERANG!” Woojin shouts stupidly, still out of sight.

Jihoon laughs brightly despite the fact that he’s still quite afraid of facing Woojin. “Is he drunk?”

 _/Summoning sickness. It should pass. Oh, look—/_ Bwuii breaks off and looks up over his left shoulder and Jihoon dutifully turns in the direction she’s staring in. On top of the very hillock Bwuii ran down stands Park Woojin, illuminated with magical golden sunset as a stupidly dramatic gust of warm wind travels over the hillside. It catches both Jihoon’s and Woojin’s hair and clothes in the draft.

She was right—he does look good. True to Jihoon’s own preferences Woojin’s hair is pushed back, though (magically!) without the obvious layers upon layers of spray and gel that had been used during the fan meeting. He has slung the grey plaid overcoat from that day over his shoulder and holds his free hand above his eyes to block out the sun. The rest of the outfit is well-fitting black pants, a matching turtleneck, and black dress shoes, and Jihoon can’t help but take a quick glance down at his own clothes. Bare feet, ratty grey sweatpants, and an oversized white T-shirt. Nice. Jihoon very quickly considers changing his own outfit into something less true-to-life but catches himself mid-thought, realizing the only reason he _would_ do such a thing is if he wanted to look good for Woojin.

 _/You do, though?/_ Bwuii mutters, hijacking his train of thought again.

“Yah!” Woojin calls down, acting surprisingly regular. “We have to talk!”

He’s playing this off like he’s not actually angry with him and that this is all normal which is either a testament to the fact that summoning sickness hits you like three shots of soju or that magical shit like this _is_ normal to Woojin by now. Despite the rolling guilt and panic still so present (even in the Dreamworld where it’s safest) Jihoon finds himself happy to see him. Happy he managed to find him and come get him when he was literally hiding away in an entirely separate plane of existence.

Bwuii imitates the sound of a whip cracking over their link and Jihoon actually scoffs at her.

“What about?” Jihoon calls up to him.

With a crack of laughter Woojin shakes his head and starts to wobble his way down the hill. “Things.”

While Bwuii knows that the hillocks are always steeper than they appear, Woojin does not. He wholeheartedly underestimates the sloping decline and within a moment his long confident strides turn into panicked, bouncy steps. About half-way down he actually trips forward with a shrill warble and tumbles the rest of the way, bouncing with little curses and _oofs_ as he does. As he sort of slides to a stop at the bottom of the hill some four meters away Jihoon winces but can’t help but coo inwardly at the rare sight of a pitiful, helpless Woojin.

 _/Ping!/_ Bwuii notifies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bwuii bwuii motherfuckers, next stop is confrontation town
> 
> im much less intimidating than i think people think i am so please please comment if you like and then come talk to me on the ol [twitter](https://twitter.com/tinylittlebell) if you REALLY like


	8. I Love Him, Bwuii Loves Him, And Boy Does Seongwoo Have Outstandingly Awful Timing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What better time to confess than while your bodies are in the middle of a magical meltdown and your souls are in another plane of existence? 
> 
> Oh, right, ANY other time.

Woojin lays sprawled on his back, laughing quietly at himself as he starts to push himself up into a sitting position. Eventually he gives up and plops back to the ground with a louder laugh and a sigh. After a few moments Jihoon realizes he’s not actually getting up any more and begins to walk towards him, Bwuii prowling silently in his shadow.

“You okay?” Jihoon asks fondly, reaching his side and staring down at him with a raised eyebrow.

Woojin looks at him for a moment with either too any emotions or none at all, it's oddly hard to tell. “Not really. Better now.”

“Yeah, me too. The not really part.”

_/And the better now part./_

“What is this place? I mean it’s… huh. This is your Dreamworld, duh. Oh shit, cool cat.”

Bwuii pops her head out from behind Jihoon’s legs, narrowing her eyes in a very humanlike way.

“You must be Bwuii,” Woojin mutters, still on his back and now holding a hand out for her to sniff. At first she doesn’t want to give him the time of day but Jihoon knows it’s a gambit. Curiosity almost immediately gets the better of her—Jihoon talks about Woojin… a lot—she leans forward and sniffs his finger before letting him run his fingers over her forehead and start to scratch behind her ears. “You’re prettier than Jihoon described.”

 _Ping!_ Jihoon sends over the link to Bwuii, smirking. Looks like he’s not the only one whose heart beats faster for Woo—wait, except he is, because she is him. Fuck.

There’s a silence as Woojin keeps petting Bwuii and she emerges fully from behind Jihoon to get more scratch action. Jihoon feels minorly betrayed until Woojin finally looks at him, growing more focused by the second. “Can I admit something to you?”

Jihoon nods, unwilling to trust his mouth.

“I… I came here really mad. Livid, actually. And here I am looking up at you and I’m… not. I’m not mad.” He smiles toothily, smoothly wrapping his fingers around one of Jihoon’s bare ankles.

“I mean, I am. Mad. Wow, feelings feel better here, huh? But I uh, can you… please tell me what magic you did during Produce?” Woojin forces out, squeezing his fingers ever so slightly around his ankle. “I’ve been killing myself over this—”

Jihoon takes a deep breath, eyes moving from Woojin’s face to the long fingers around his ankle. “—None.”

“—if… huh? Oh. That was… easy.” Woojin pushes himself up into a sitting position and unfortunately letting go of Jihoon in the process. Bwuii trotts around them twice before running away, sweetly giving them time to talk despite being able to overhear everything in Jihoon’s head anyway. So really, not so sweet.  

Woojin watches her leave before turning to Jihoon. “Wait, we’re… we’re talking about the same thing right?”

“I didn’t cheat, if that’s what you’re thinking.” Jihoon mutters under his breath, unable to make eye contact. He didn’t cheat. He _thought_ about cheating because he’s a human with a thinking brain that wouldn’t be doing it’s job if it didn’t consider every course of action, every possible way for him to achieve his dreams. But he _didn’t_.

“I… are you sure?” Woojin winces, peering up at him from his seated position.

Of course he’s sure. “You can look through my Book of Shadows if you want, I didn’t use any magic during Produce 101.”

Another gust of wind blows, this one carrying the soft smell of lilac. The colors of the sunset have shifted into something deeper, the pinks to a bold orange and the rest into a deep dark cobalt, with lavender edged stratocirrus clouds adding more character to the sight.

“T-the whole time?” Woojin asks, trying to clarify something that Jihoon can’t quite put his finger on.

“Come on, Woojin, we were all too busy to even eat, you think I had that time? Or space? The only thing I did was refresh a spell at home a few times and that only took a chant, no ingredients or fire or _anything_ witchy.” Jihoon sighs and takes a step back from Woojin, continuing to look at the splendid sunset on the horizon.  

There’s a small pause before Woojin softly asks, “What about the wink?”

“What about it?”

“That wasn’t…”

Suddenly Jihoon puts his trepidations together and looks back down to him in disbelief. “You think my megaton wink was a _spell?”_

Woojin blushes and runs a hand through his hair, messing it up in the process. “Well… _thought_ is more accurate now. It wasn’t?”

“No, dude, it was just really fucking cute.”

They fall silent and after a good minute Jihoon sighs deeply before plopping to the grass with Woojin, keeping a respectable but companionable distance facing in different directions. Close, but also not. Jihoon hears him pull shoots of grass out of the ground as he keeps his eyes on the thin purple clouds, the small tugs and tears of the grass audible over the soft breeze.

“Oh shit, it just grows right back, huh. Cool.” Woojin has apparently discovered one of the little tricks of the grass plains. “It’s like _ma~agic_.”

His stupid inflection causes Jihoon to snort out an unattractive laugh. He’s been waiting for that joke to get old for five years and somehow it hasn’t yet. “So, that’s what you're mad about?”

Woojin lets out a breath and Jihoon looks over his shoulder at him tugging at the grass. “I thought… I really thought you cheated to win, or cheated to make others lose, or just magicked your way through it all. Something. I was so sure, I’ve been obsessed with the idea since the orchid spell blew up.”

“I didn’t cheat.” Jihoon repeats, the sound blending with the wind. When he finally looks at Woojin’s face again, he’s shocked to find him looking directly at him and can’t help but look away. “You thought I would?”

“Yeah. Maybe.” Woojin laughs once.

“Well, I did think about it.” Jihoon admits with a matching laugh before humming to himself. “But I didn’t go through with it. I didn’t even have my tarot deck on me. I-if you need me to prove that, we both know of a number of honesty compulsion draughts that I can just—”

“That’s okay.” Woojin placates softly, tossing a clump of grass and dirt at him. It bounces off Jihoon’s left shoulder blade and he twists around to look at the impact site before grabbing his own tuft of grass and lobbing it at Woojin. He only managed to snatch the grass blades and they fall slowly down over Woojin, a natural mockery of the little slips of paper confetti that showers them on stages. Some grass somehow gets into Woojin’s mouth and he moves to spit them out only to encounter another fun trick to Dreamworlds: “This grass tastes like strawberry.”

“It does _today.”_ Jihoon grins, settling into a slouched cross legged position with his elbows on his knees and his shoulders hunched forward. “Not to… ruin it, but how are you so sure I’m telling you the truth?”

“Because I’m a better witch than you give me credit for—” Woojin wiggles his eyebrows obnoxiously but cuts the gag short. “—and I whipped up a clarity and intuition cleanser that I took before doing the dream plane thing.”

Damn. So instead of employing a way to determine if Jihoon was lying or not, he did something to improve his own trust _in himself,_ like it’s Woojin who needs to be clearer, not Jihoon. It’s an interesting way of employing magic and a completely different thought process that his own. Jihoon enjoys sending magic into the world but Woojin’s power tends to build from within. Outward centrifugal energies tempered by inner centripetal solidity—just another observation to add to the growing pile of reasons why they’re perfect, why they can’t lose each other.

_/Ping! PingpingpingpingPING!/_

“Shut it!” Jihoon says out loud instead directly to Bwuii, causing Woojin to jump and point a finger at himself, wide-eyed. “No not you, it’s Bwuii. She’s teasing me through our, er, mindlink.”

“Teasing you about what?”

About _feelings._ Jihoon rises to his feet, dusting off his pants and stretching even though astrally projected forms don't really need to do that. “Hmm, well, that I let a novice get through our walls.”  

“Well, you... you know, you _did._ Something tells me that has more to do with how fucking disgusting everything is back home than anything.” Astute, isn’t he. “You were really hurt by it all.”

It’s a statement.

Jihoon lets out a long breath, eyes on the sky. “Yeah. Still hurts. Everything is just so _wrong_ and all of that is my fault—”

Woojin cuts in, no doubt picking up on his self-deprecation before it can really get going. “—Guanlin’s too, never forget. We would have just kept on skipping and laughing into the sunset without his fucking _elbow.”_

This cheers Jihoon up a bit, even if it’s not a fair breakdown of blame. “It’s not just Hyunbin though. There are number of other spells going on and I just… maybe I shouldn’t have done it. Any of it. You know there are other spells going on, the ‘sleep well’ and ‘don’t smell’ charms, the things that make it all easier on us. You can’t make people love each other but magic _can_ turn a house into a home. Th-that’s all I wanted.”

Woojin is strangely silent at this so Jihoon continues without looking at him. “And now that place is no longer a home and I can’t fix it, either. I can’t do _anything._ Not even here, where the misery is faintest.”

Still quiet. That’s not a good sign. Jihoon finally tries to catch Woojin’s eye, but the other man has a furrowed brow that puts Jihoon on edge. After a few long moments he’s about to snap in his face to get his attention, but Woojin’s eyes suddenly catch his.

“What do you mean you can’t make people love each other with magic?” He asks so defeatedly that Jihoon forgets where he was going with his explanation, forgets pretty much everything except for Woojin’s sudden turmoil—it's  _that_ strong, or perhaps just resounds stronger here. 

“It… it just doesn’t work like that?” Jihoon’s voice trembles a bit. “Love is an ingredient of magic, not a product. Love spells and potions are impossible—I mean you can make someone really, er, sexed up and also make them, like, _smell_ another person in particular. But love? No. Not even a crush. It doesn’t even… I mean it can be a conduit or fuel, but the product? No.”

Silence again. Then, softly, “Oh.”

“Did you… do you—fuck. What?” Jihoon pieces together some words, somehow managing to get his point across.

“Um,” Woojin blinks a few too many times before looking down at the grass just as Jihoon looks at him.

_/I think… he just…/_

“Do… do you think... I? Did that?” Jihoon asks, more confused with each word that falls out.

Woojin takes a deep shaky breath and shakes his head repeatedly before the shakes swivel into nods, quick little ones.

“To you?”

“Mmhm.”

“From _me?"_

Woojin laughs pointlessly to himself with a self-deprecating shrug, still unable to meet Jihoon’s gaze. “Well, again, _thought_ is the, er, word to use here.”

_/That’s not a ping. Are you having a heart attack?/_

“S-so,” Jihoon stutters, tilting his head and furrowing his brow. He looks up to the now royal purple and tangerine sunset sky at the exact moment Woojin casts him a wary glance. “Uhmm. You thought I forced you to… love me?”

Woojin just lets out a deep breath. “Well. Yeah. A little.”

The fuck is ‘a little’? More importantly: “Does that mean that you now… don’t?”

“Don’t what?”

“Love…?”

Despite his attempt at a poker face sheer horror flits over Woojin’s face at the idea, at the very notion that he doesn’t love Jihoon. But the spark of honesty is fleeting and he soon returns his flustered attention to the grass. “O-of course I love yo—I love _all of us.”_

God, why does hearing that _hurt_ so much? Tacking on that ‘all of us’ feels like Woojin is forcing an actual tack into his heart. Jihoon raises his hand to the pit between his collarbones, suddenly feeling much more vulnerable than he wants to be. He’s so in love and he is _so_ fucked.

 _/Wow, you’re FUCKED_ _./_ Bwuii doubles down for good measure.

Here’s the thing: Woojin basically _half_ confessed to him. Only half though because not only did he obviously backtrack in his explanation when he added the ‘all of us’, he also never clearly stated anything whatsoever, at all. Yes, Jihoon would be lying if he said he didn’t believe from somewhere deep and powerful in his heart that Woojin does have romantic feelings for him—he does have eyes, after all. At the same time all the observations that led to that conclusion were born from his crush-riddled brain and that is not the most reliable narrator.

Suddenly it feels like the only thing he knows for certain is that Woojin is fully jeojang’ed in his heart.

“You love all of us? Equally?” This awfully-communicated half-confession(?) is starting to get exasperating and for the briefest moment Jihoon considers going nuclear. It’s quickly overtaken by a rush of anxious inner pleading against doing something so stupid as spilling his heart out all over his best friend.

Bwuii, however, is a big fan of the idea. _/Do it. He won’t know unless you tell him./_

Woojin purses his lips before sniffing loudly. “Yeah, of course I love us all, we’re a family.”

“Oh. Well… _I_ don’t.”

_/Holy mother of fuck are you really doing this?/_

“Heh?” Woojin chirps, eyebrows flying up as he finally looks at Jihoon. His mouth gapes slightly and with every moment Jihoon doesn’t reply his brow furrows deeper. It’s a complicated storm of expressions; thrilled, confused, and cautious all wrapped together. No doubt Jihoon himself is wearing a similar face, he only hopes his looks a little more reined in, more in control.

“I love them all, sure. But I don’t _love_ them.” Jihoon clarifies vaguely with an even vaguer wave of his hand. “Semantics.”

Woojin is suddenly on his feet, alternating his weight between his legs as though he doesn’t know whether or not he should come closer or strategically retreat. It may be because of the fact that Woojin is wearing shoes (Dreamshoes, sure, but still with enough of a heel to exacerbate their increasing natural height difference) and Jihoon is a barefooted hippie child but he seems much _bigger_ than him right now.

“Could you clarify that?” Woojin asks deeply. Not the same depth of tone used for rapping—this is a spoken _growl_ and Jihoon is barely surprised by his sudden desire to hear it much more intimately. He may only be part of the way through his confession but Jihoon is committed to it now, is committed to Park Woojin in so many ways already he might as well add Lover to list.

“Sure.” Jihoon lets out a quiet breath before straightening his posture and fortifying his balance. He's doing this. He's confessing right fucking now because  _why not?_ “Obviously I love them all. They're real life, annoying, wonderful brothers. But I don’t share myself with them, I don’t want to make up new constellations and reenact anime scenes with them. I don't seek them out in my peripherals. I sure as _shit_ don’t constantly think about them, about all the foods I want to try and places I want go together. I don’t want to kiss _them._ J-just—”

“ _—me._ ” Woojin finishes with an inscrutable whisper.

Jihoon closes his eyes as he takes a breath and doesn’t open them again until he exhales it. “Just you.”

It's there, it's out in the world with a meaning that pulses with power. Jihoon's love has a definition, has a target. Just Woojin. Fucking shit. 

A sudden overwhelming echo pulses through his blood, reaching every inch of him at at once, and Jihoon would shout in fear if he didn't know  _exactly_ that it meant. Woojin just stands there wide-eyed and beautiful, slowly raising his hand from where he’s been stiffly holding it at his side just as Jihoon feels the telltale tug on the top of his spine. _No, nonono._ Bwuii’s world starts to dim at the edges of his vision and electric pinpricks tug minutely at his skin along with the overwhelming _pull_ from somewhere both above, below, and to the left and right of him—everywhere at once.

Fuck, not _now._

There’s a voice in his head, garbling backwards scratchily. _“!NOOHIJ !PU SSA YZAL RYOY TEG !nwod uoy gard lliw I—”_ Reversed though it may be, it’s still clearly Seongwoo demanding his attention in the real world. _“!t’now I kniht t’nod, knub eht ffo thgir—_ right off of the bunk, don’t think I won’t!”

The words correct themselves as Jihoon gets metaphysically dragged through multiple planes back to his sleeping body, summoned not by magic but by a _very_ noisy hyung  waking him up in his physical realm. Jihoon begs his memory to hold on to that last glimpse of Woojin—mid-stride towards him, eyes bright with alarm at witnessing magical event he neither understood nor stood a chance of reversing—through the shifting tempest of planeshifting and almost whines in despair when the only thing he now sees is Seongwoo’s messy hair and wry grin.  

Fuck.

“You IDIOT—” Jihoon snarls, going so far as to swing a wild fist at him despite Seongwoo being on the ground a safe distance away. After struggling violently out of his blankets Jihoon throws himself unsafely out of the top bunk and grabs Seongwoo roughly by his collar. “Do you know what you’ve DONE?”

“I w-woke you up? Normal shit that we do every day?” Seongwoo blubbers, completely thrown off by Jihoon’s sudden violence and still too shocked to fight back. “The _fuck_ , Jihoon?”

 _I had just told the best person in the world that I wanted to kiss him and you and your fucking idiot ass—_ “Woke me up? Fuck, sorry. You just… you interrupted a very REAL dream.”

Is Woojin in the messy throes of an immediately unresolved life-altering confrontation as well? Jihoon gently shoves Seongwoo away to have better access to the door. “Sorry again, hyung, I gotta...”

He leaves before Seongwoo can say another word and stumbles dazedly to his regular room, still affected by the messy vertigo of planeshifting. It also doesn't help that he energetically propelled himself out of bed mere milliseconds after planeshifting. Someone calls out to him from the kitchen as he shoots past but Jihoon ignores them in order to reach their room. Instead of bursting in immediately he leans against the outside wall and listens through the door, both to get a sense of Woojin’s state and so he can recover a bit of physical (and mental) balance before going in.

 _“I… I don’t like this, hyung, I think we should call an ambulance.”_ Daniel, quiet and miserable.

Ambulance?

 _"That’s a bit drastic, don’t you think?”_ Minhyun, cold and dry.

Jinyoung is angrily muttering underneath Daniel and Minhyun’s deliberation, _“Get up, get UP you deadass! Hyung, should I throw water on him?”_

 _“Already tried,”_ Minhyun sighs. _“I don't know what this is, I went to wake him up and he just seized up a couple times and before just... nothing."_

Jihoon rests his forehead against the cool door, knowing he needs more time to recover but far too charged to give himself the minute or so he still needs. Something went wrong here, something on Woojin’s end. Something somehow more dire than the fact that they are in mid-confession. Woojin managed to _get_ to the Dreamworld and, temporary bewilderment aside, his astral form went through little strain from whatever heavy-handed spellwork he whipped up. Lapis, most likely. Jihoon wishes he would have had enough sense of mind to check Daniel’s pillow for a dream anchor before attempting to throttle Seongwoo, but if he taught Woojin well enough his Book of Shadows should have every detail of whatever spell he concocted already listed. 

The door opens inward mid-musing and Jihoon’s dulled reflexes aren’t enough to stop him from falling face-forward into the room but Daniel’s strong arms are. He steadies Jihoon immediately and pulls him inside, almost vibrating with worry, “Jihoon-ah, thank god, something’s really w-wrong with Woojin.”

_He’s trapped somewhere between my heart and my mind._

Weaving around Daniel is easy, and then Jihoon gets a glipse of Jinyoung using anger to cover worry, sitting stiffly by Woojin's bedside. Minhyun stands casually, laying his long body on the latter leading to Jihoon's top bunk as he slowly drags his hands down his face. Then there's Woojin, sleeping. They've stripped the blankets off him and someone (perhaps Minhyun given his strange morbidity this morning) has crossed his hands utop his chest like one might with a corpse in a casket. 

"Fucking hell, hyung, he's not  _dead_." Jihoon growls, sliding to his knees next to the bed and placing his limp arms by his sides. It hardly looks better. Jihoon has so far managed to avoid looking at his face but he ends up giving in to the lingering, almost magnetic pull. Woojin looks  _dead_ , and even though he already knows better Jihoon can't help putting two cold fingers to his neck to check his pulse. It's there, soft and quiet perhaps, but it's there. 

There's no real expression on Woojin's face through there is a furrow between his brows, as though he were thinking about something very difficult, very slowly. Jihoon's hand wanders from his neck to cup his cheek softly, attempting to rush through his mental magical (and mundane) repository of information to find a solution, but the only thing his focus snaps to is Woojin Woojin Woojin. 

Driven by a sudden shock of panic, Jihoon shoots to his feet and takes a step away, eyes still fixed on Woojin's face. _Bwuii?_ He shoots over their line, heart constricting when his call bounces back to him cold and unanswered. 

_Bwuiiyah please, what happened? Please, please be there, please be okay._

Nothing returns but his own faint echo.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FCCUCUAK WHAT HAPPENED TO WOOJIN
> 
> WHY ISNT BWUII RESPONDING
> 
> WHY CAN'T THEY JUST WITCHKISS ALREADY
> 
> ask these questions or just yell at me on ze [twit](https://twitter.com/tinylittlebell) and support [bunssodan cross](https://twitter.com/bsdcross), 9 2park diehards with love to spread  
> (but please please tell me what you think right here, right below in that comment box lalallalaaa)


	9. I'm Beginning to Question Things Like Sensation and Existence But This Bird is Being Very Helpful

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jihoon has been pulled from the world and Woojin gets ejected from it. To where, no one really understands. Magical creatures just know it's Very Scary and you shouldn't linger. Word to the wise: there are times when you should avoid being attacked by a peregrine falcon—this is not one of them.

☆

_Just you._

Fuck. What?

_Just you. Just you. Just you._

The two words bounce softly around Woojin’s mind, the contextual meaning drowned out in his shock and lingering summoning sickness. They float clumsily around his mind as though the words were foreign and the speaker a stranger. Just sounds. _Just you_. Woojin tries to dig his teeth into the confession—that _was_ a confession, right?—but before he can, before he can do anything more than reach out to him a flash of terror strikes across Jihoon’s face.

The air pressure drops suddenly, scarily, as though someone had pulled the plug of this world with the goal of draining the reality from it. Woojin’s not sure he’s feeling this so much as experiencing it and from Jihoon’s wild eyes he knows he’s not the only one aware that something is going wrong.

Whatever it is, it _takes_ Jihoon and his sweet, perfect, _“Just you”_ away with it. It’s not something absurd and comical like being risen into the sky by a higher entity, or even more lingering and drawn out like a dissipating cloud—Jihoon is there one moment, vulnerable and beautiful, and the next he’s just _not._ Bwuii’s twilight world stretches on to the horizon as it has this entire time, just without Jihoon present.

What the fuck…!?

“That’s not fucking _funny,_ Jihoon!” Woojin bellows, knowing before the first word left his mouth that this is very much not a prank. Confess and then abandon in a separate dimension? That’s a touch too malicious to be in Jihoon’s playbook, so whatever happened wasn’t supposed to.

Panic creeps its way down Woojin’s spine despite his valiant attempts to keep it at bay. “Seriously, you asshole, w-what—”

He turns on his heel to look around but finds nothing but sheer black—darkness without depth or limit. _Did it take me too?_ What even is ‘it’? _W-what the fuck?_

Nothing in Woojin’s relatively short life has so far managed to cause as much emotional what-the-fuckery as Park Jihoon. Trainee life as a pinball bouncing around the Korean Entertainment machine? Volatile, sure, but largely predictable in its tempermentality. Surviving the Produce melee? Difficult, but he had both talent and allies throughout. The glittering Idol Life—more of an _entity,_ a static storm too imposing to do anything but hope to navigate safely—doesn’t weigh on his heart the way it eats at his body, either.

The strangest part about Park Jihoon’s what-the-fuckery isn’t his electric magic or the wealth of firepower—fucking _literally—_ in his arsenal. It’s the fact that the Witch Jihoon exists simultaneously with a FPS gaming, chicken-hoarding, chest-popping cutiepie that Woojin is equally enamored with. Jihoon is always both magical and mundane, so really, Woojin shouldn’t even be surprised that any shotgun confession from him would naturally come hand in hand with magical bobcats and dimension jumping. Still.

 _Still._ Woojin wants nothing more than to unpack Jihoon’s behavior but his situation has dipped from confusing to threatening and if he ever wants to respond to Jihoon’s confession (wordlessly, with his lips) he has to actually return to his corporeal body to do so. 

The darkness around him is truly unique—instead of seeing black as you do when you close your eyelids, Woojin isn’t seeing anything at all. It feels as if sight, the concept, simply doesn’t exist here. Nor sound, he learns when he shouts with all his might into the abyss to absolutely no effect. The panic now inches up Woojin's throat, threatening to throttle him. Does _he_ even exist here? It’s hard to tell when sensations are largely filtered out. He turns around again (rather, assumes he’s turning) and finds the darkness to be absolute, enveloping him entirely. It may be inside him, may _be_ him. 

_/Is this really the time for an existential crisis?/_

Woojin turns around at the sound in his head, searching for the speaker. The voice is light and sweet, but somehow carries a weight of blatant judgement and authority, reminiscent of some of the sharper coordi noonas he’s come across. A streak of something light in color flashes by in his left peripheral, the first thing he’s been able to see in this tremendous darkness. As soon as he turns it flits by again, this time on his right side.

Whatever it is, it’s _fast_. Woojin tries to shout at it but again finds this world soundless—except for that voice in his head.

_/Stop shouting at me and use your goddamn brain./_

And what does _that_ mean? Woojin wants to scream despite knowing it won’t amount to anything.

_/It means THINK. I take it you’re familiar with thinking? Talk in your brain./_

_W-what like this? Think words?_

This time he feels something brush quickly over his cheek, something at once sharp and yielding. Feathers.

_/Look at you! Using that huge hominid head of yours./_

_Who are you?_ Woojin asks, knowing exactly who this creature is to him. A familiar, for all intents and purposes the factor that indicates magical adulthood. This is big league stuff. 

_/I’m you. If you were the fastest animal on the planet, that is./_

Wait, Woojin knows this. As soon as his mind lands on _peregrine falcon,_ she laughs prettily. _/I am literally you and I didn’t even think you would know that. Lift your arm./_

Woojin follows her instruction and is surprised that he is able to see his own arm again, a welcome sight in this hideous void. The darkness is still everywhere but with each touch with his familiar he seems to be regaining sensation bit by bit. The return of hearing is proven when he hears himself let out a shrill squeak upon seeing a sleek, beautiful peregrine falcon perched knowingly on his forearm.

“Bird!” Woojin exclaims despite having had a bit of forewarning going into this, flapping his free arm to distract himself from instinctively wanting to throw her off. She tightens her sharp grip on his forearm, clearly knowing what’s going through his mind. “G-gahh! Watch the claws!”

 _/They’re called talons./_ She schools, clearly proud of her own lethality and Woojin can’t help but respect her for that. _/I’m sorry if I hurt you./_

That omission comes as a surprise and his respect morphs into genuine like for this bird. She’s beautiful too, with her cream belly and dark slate blue back feathers, her wings and chest striped with sharp, thin dashes of black. Big black eyes shine both judgemental and alert, and there’s a bit of dolefulness to them that Woojin can't help but find remarkably human.

_/Great, now that you like me we need to get down to the nitty-gritty. The muddy-bloody. I’m going to hurt you more./_

“Excuse me?”

_/Of course Jihoon didn’t tell you about the contract prodecure… I need your blood./_

“More of it, you mean?” Woojin asks, wincing as he focuses his attention on the pain in his arm.

_/More of it, yes. We need to get you out of the Interim, you—and now I—can’t stay. We don’t belong here and the Cosmos will soon come to correct that. In a very… erasing way. So we need to create a place where we do belong./_

“Dreamworld. We're going to build a Dreamworld. Okay, bird, lead the way.” Woojin gestures in a random direction with his free hand.

She laughs. _/It's not that simple, human. We need to sign our contract before we can make a Dreamworld. I need to wound you, I need your blood on my talons to define the new world with./_

“A bit morbid.” Woojin mutters under his breath but shrinks under the bird’s remarkably diminishing gaze. “But c-clearly necessary so go righ—FAAACK!”

She grips, _hard._ What’s somehow worse than the sharp needles searing into the meat of his arm is the extreme pressure being exerted by the skinny yellow feet he had previously deemed ‘goofy-looking’. No longer goofy—powerful, perhaps magically so. Woojin gasps in alarm but has absolutely no intention of shaking her off again. Ever again. Something surges through him, something traveling up the veins of his left arm in search of his heart. Woojin doesn’t question why he knows this—he understands the experience as her own magic finding a home in his body because that’s information the bird already knows. His bird. His familiar. 

Looks like the 'procedure' is working.

_/You’re doing well—contracts with predators tend to be quite violent, but it reflects the witch’s own capacity to withstand pain./_

Woojin can’t help but think of Jihoon, of how much pain he went through with Bwuii. He wonders where the scar is, how long it took to heal, if Jihoon is proud of it. Of course he is.

 _/Seriously? Jihoon confessed to you?/_ The bird says suddenly, brightly, changing her demeanor from a tough love tsundere into a high-pitched gossip. _/Sorry I’m still getting caught up with your memories—it’s kind of like downloading a whole new operating system, takes a bit of time for it all to come together./_

Still in tremendous pain from her talons, Woojin can’t help but burst out loud. “You’re a bird, how do you know about operating systems?”

_/I’m going to give you a second./_

What, why? Oh. “Because you’re me.”

 _/Starting to wish otherwise./_ She lies. Somehow Woojin can _feel_ her lie through the line running from his arm to his heart. The pain is dull now. Present, pulsing, and no longer unwelcome. _/Tell me about him./_

Park Jihoon, of the flame and flower, unquestionably the most important person in his entire life. “He’s a piece of shit, I’ll tell you that.”

 _/Uh-huh.../_ The bird says and Woojin imagines a scarily beautiful, well-dressed thirty-something woman filing her nails. Dangerous indeed.

“I think about him all the time, so much that it’s annoying.” Woojin isn’t focusing on the pain in his arm or that his heart feels like it’s two times too large for his chest _—_ he's thinking about Jihoon. “But when I’m _with_ him, I don’t think at all. I just…”

He can’t describe the sheer immensity, the limitless depth of what he feels when they’re together. Something that goes past the physical and the magical. Everything. 

_/You’re so in love it’s creeping me out./_

“I... Yeah. Yeah, I'm in love with Park Jihoon." He says. "I said it. I'm saying it now _._ I want him so much. Every day I spend not with him is one day closer to having none left."

 _/You’re with Jihoon all the time./_ Her big, beady eyes shine with what Woojin somehow knows is mirth.

“You know what I mean.”

_/I do./_

Woojin wants every part of Jihoon and that scares him a little. “But how. How. _How._ He likes _me?_ That’s not—”

_/What, a part of the plan? There is no plan here, and if there was this would be a very big part of it, don’t you think? Having him love you back? Don't try to act dumb, you are acutely aware of how differently he treats you than the others. He invited you into his secret world, you didn't think that meant he trusts and loves you?/_

“Y-yeah, but, you know, in a different way.”

 _/Just you./_ Bird (she's being annoying so she gets an annoying name) adopts Jihoon’s inflection for the killing part. _/He doesn’t want to kiss them, just you./_

Aren’t there more pressing matters at hand here than his heart? _/No./_ Bird answers his thought immediately, without hesitation. _/But I see your point and we are almost done. In a minute or so I’ll let you go and cut a portal into what will become Ours. The Cosmos is still ignorant of our trespass for now but we have to get building as soon as possible. We need at least half of a complete world to belong./_

That sounds like a very simple explanation of something extremely complicated, so Woojin doesn’t even try to dig deeper into the magical semantics of the word _belong._ Still, he think he gets it because being with Jihoon feels an awful lot like this _belonging_ she keeps chirping about.

Woojin changes the subject.  “So… Okay. Um. This is going to sound offensive. Actually, it _is_ going to be offensive. Familiars are supposed to be fucking powerhouses, right? So why can’t you just zap me back to my body?”

The question _is so dumb_ that it shocks even his own magical soul in bird form. _/You… how… seriously? You knew to plant one on Jihoon but didn’t think that you might have needed one for the reversal process? Unbelievable./_

“Needed… what?”

☆

“Lapis _fucking_ lazuli.” Jihoon growls on his hands and knees as he searches under Woojin’s bed for any sight of a small blue stone. He’s already searched around his bed, his sheets, his pillow, even went so far as to give Woojin's still body a thorough and wholeheartedly embarrassing full cavity search. Nothing under the bed to be found either, save for a dirty sock and an abandoned snack wrapper. 

It looks very much as though Woojin, the brave idiot, did not prepare a dream anchor _for himself_. He supplied one to Jihoon (one he found after half a moment nestled between his sheets and his mattress once he went to check) and that ended up working the way it was supposed to: Woojin sent his astral self along a path that was anchored at Jihoon. Now that Jihoon is no longer in that world it cannot support Woojin’s existence in it. He would have been summarily ejected almost as soon as Jihoon was taken. Woojin is probably nowhere—unmoored, directionless, like a boat lost at sea during the darkest of nights. The Interim. Under normal circumstances Jihoon leaving his Dreamworld (for whatever reason, and by whatever means) would not result in any funny business like this. It would continue on with Bwuii to inhabit the world, free to hunt all manner of rabbits and bugs at her leisure.

 _Come on Bwuiiyah, talk to me._ He tries. Nothing returns. With a huge sigh Jihoon pushes himself back up on his knees and looks at Woojin’s face—he looks… a bit pained. He's probably imagining it though.

If Woojin (by all magical laws considered an intruder) were left in the Dreamworld _without Jihoon,_ Bwuii’s own power wouldn’t be enough to sustain the world for the both of them. A witch and a familiar work alone functionally but together fantastically so without the extra magical juice Bwuii’s world most likely began to collapse, which is most likely why she’s too preoccupied to respond to his calls. That's Jihoon's hope, anyway.

Given that the mood of the dorm is still on the ‘confusing hatred’ side of things it was surprisingly easy for Jihoon to orchestrate an exodus that left only the two of them behind. He capitalized on their bad moods, but it ended up coming down to a rather dangerous hybridization of emotionally dampening air magic and a supercharged exploit of the obsidian befuddlement necklace to get them not to worry that one of their members is in a coma and also think nothing of just leaving Jihoon behind for a day. That's some serious magic.

Minhyun took a bit of pushing (physically) and Seongwoo looked like he had something to say the entire time, but not ten minutes after Jihoon had forced awake the nine others had made scarce. He’s gotten a few texts, Jisung alerting him that management is aware the two are taking a day and Daehwi sending him a link to an article on the physiological benefits of deep sleep. They don’t seem to worry and by all accounts are probably being kept too busy to force their thought process through the cloud of magical fuzz from Jihoon’s spells. Given how shitty their practice had been yesterday, they're surely going through something vengeful and grueling today to make up for it.

Woojin’s Book of Shadows lies open on the bed and Jihoon feels a very strong desire to read through other entries, ones that aren’t about today’s predicament. He’s taught Woojin to keep his Book like he would a diary, to suffuse his magic with the output of his heart and mind, and that means that he’s probably written his _feelings_ down. His feelings about, say, Jihoon.

But he doesn’t look—in fact he snaps it close and locks it remotely. It took a pretty high-level hex break to get into the Book and despite it not being the time or place Jihoon feels a lick of pride at the quality of Woojin’s protection spells. Nothing on his own, mind you.

_/Yeah, you say that, but he broke his ass into our world. Your own protection spells might need a revisit./_

_Bwuii._ Jihoon actually cries out in relief at the sound of her low tone feeding through their link strong and clear, as though to make up for the disconnection until now. He shoots to his feet and turns to see his beautiful bobcat sitting proudly on his top bunk, licking her chest fur nonchalantly. Jihoon is up the latter in a flash, meeting Bwuii halfway after she stretches out of her sitting position and meanders over to him.

“You’re good, you’re okay? How’d you even get here?”

_/Once I figured out what was happening I just followed the same path you were dragged down before it could dissappear. Unfortunately I cannot say the same for Woojin._ _/_

“What happened to Woojin? He got booted?”

Bwuii paws clumsily into his space, enthusiastically scent marking in the cuddliest way possible. _/Yeah, I couldn’t keep it all together in time, sorry if I worried you. I have to say I didn’t think Woojin could break into our world, but I REALLY didn’t think he could fucking destroy it./_

Jihoon laughs, grateful for this one piece of good fortune—Bwuii is safe. “Technically that was a joint effort on his and Seongwoo-hyung’s part.”

Quietly communicating a new plan over their link, Jihoon walks back off the latter and returns to Woojin below while Bwuii drops heavily from the top bunk to the floor in a wave of tawny floof. _/You were a little preoccupied with, ya know, confessing to the man you love so I suppose you have no idea how scary that was. You were just GONE. I’m sure Woojin is losing his fucking mind right now./_

Well so is Jihoon, so...

 _/For now, we need to work to rescue your love—/_ “Shut. It.” _/—from his eternal slumber and by Jove, I think a kiss might just do the trick./_

What. No way it can be that simple.

_/I’m fucking with you. We need to come up with a retrieval spell that can power through the bullshit of Woojin’s improvized magic and can also locate him within the Interim. And then get him OUT of there without a conduit path. It’s going to be extremely difficult, but please, don’t let me stop you from kissing his comatose lips./_

“And you can fuck right off.”

Bwuii hops up on Woojin’s bed as Jihoon sits cross legged on the floor by his side. She sniffs at Woojin’s face, his neck, gives his forehead a little lick. Jihoon tries to think about the Interim, about locating something within a place that filters out concepts such as time, space, and sensation but finds his attention span is capable of tossing the lapis stone between his hands and not much else. He’s afraid, afraid for Woojin, that he might be trapped in a place that doesn’t make sense and eventually become it. Part of it. The Interim is _scary_ that’s why—BIG SHOCKER—novice witches aren’t supposed to try their hands at traversing it. Especially improvised.

And then, supposing they managed to summon Woojin back to his body safe and sound, there’s still that tiny detail that Jihoon’s roundabout confession is still _unanswered._ It’s been a dramatic morning and Jihoon is just about to knock on wood when another problem rears its handsome head.

“Bobcat.”

For the second time in an hour, Jihoon hears a voice he does not want to. A person of interest in the What The Fuck Just Happened case of 2018.

“That’s a bobcat. There’s a bobcat about to eat Woojin.” Ong Seongwoo, back in the dorm.

Jihoon turns to the doorway to see him, surprisingly calm, looking Bwuii dead in the eyes as she stands over Woojin’s body.

Well this will take some explaining.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bird the peregrine falcon has entered the party
> 
>  
> 
> [twt](https://twitter.com/tinylittlebell) is there but also comment ifyou dare~ the box just hanging out right belowwuwuuuw


	10. Well, Apparently I Have Been Courting Jihoon Like A Peregrine Falcon So There's That

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> last time, shit was juuuuust about to get real:  
>  _“That’s a bobcat. There’s a bobcat about to eat Woojin.” Ong Seongwoo, back in the dorm._
> 
> _Jihoon turns to the doorway to see him, surprisingly calm, looking Bwuii dead in the eyes as she stands over Woojin’s body._
> 
> _Well this will take some explaining._  
> 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "drought!? 2park drought?!?!" she growls to herself, tearing apart her desk for the pair of screen glasses less cute but far more functional than the ones she can immediately locate. "oohooo dont test me. ill make it rain. ill make it rain BLOOD and LOVE"
> 
> her cat snorts beside her. _/puh-lease itll take more than a few sloppy updates to save us from this drought. this is biblical level bullshit./_
> 
> somewhere in korea, park woojin looks up from his phone, suddenly aware of _something_. "huh. i should touch hoonie more." he says to no one.

 

☆

 

In the three long moments it takes Jihoon to get over the fact that he cannot seem to catch a fucking break, Bwuii pounces off Woojin’s bed with a little growl that Seongwoo takes to be a sign of aggression but Jihoon knows to be more of hum of intrigue. He lets out an embarrassed warble and scampers back, away from the approaching wildcat.

“W-wha—” Seongwoo is quickly backed into a corner of the room by Bwuii, fumbling backwards unsafely in the process. Jihoon reflexively jerks half-way up to catch the elder as he falls back but Seongwoo commits to his tumble and ends in a scrappy but oddly-coordinated sprawl against the wall farthest from Woojin, still locked in a very real staring contest with Bwuii.

“Hyung, you’re dream—” Jihoon begins, hand flying for the obsidian necklace hanging obviously around his neck but Bwuii interrupts his words with a blast of her own.

_/Wait, don’t try. He’s clearly less susceptible to befuddlement. He's probably some matter of sensitive, or at least observant as all mighty hell in the ways you do not want him to be./_

_How do you know that?_

_/I can smell it on him./_ Bwuii takes advantage of Seongwoo now being at eye-level to advance, claws retracted, and start thoroughly scent-marking him, purring up a storm the entire time. _/He doesn’t have enough to become a real witch like Woojin, but there’s a pure sort of intuition to him I’m not sure the others share?/_

“Wha-what is this CAT DoINghnng!” Seongwoo has a hand guarding his face as though in fear but he can’t help but stare through his fingers at Bwuii and battle with his spreading, goofy grin. “It’s…ahh, oh it’s cute and soft and _scary_ , J-Jihoon wheehehhe _hHAAHhaaak_.”

Bwuii is now nuzzling Seongwoo’s neck, causing him to giggle and shriek in something between fear and delight. Jihoon opens his mouth to weave another lie but finds the words trapped in his chest, along with a deep exhausted _ache._ He’s tired, he’s _so tired_ , mentally if not physically, spiritually for certain. Now that he realizes how drained he really is, Jihoon wonders if he could actually pull off another obsidian befuddlement blast even if he wanted to put Seongwoo out for real.

He’s too tired to lie anymore and his current priority is not Ong Seongwoo. So, “I’m a journeyman witch, and that bobcat is my familiar, Bwuii. She's real. Say hi, Bwuii.”

Bwuii growls in affirmation. Seongwoo gapes, temporarily forgetting that he was being love-gorged by a bobcat.

“Woojin is an apprentice witch, mine, in fact. Hyunbin, the orchids, was a spell that was destroyed and backfired, creating the horrible atmosphere we’ve been dying in the last few days. Woojin and I, being motherfucking witches, have been hit the hardest by this magical misery and have been avoiding each other. I’ve been thinking myself into the abyss, worrying about the fact that I’ve been using magic with us, _for_ us. I’ve been throwing up—actual vomit—from anxiety about whether or not I’ve ruined Woojin’s life by bringing him into my world.”

Between dodging Bwuii’s attempts to scent-mark his entire face Seongwoo has been throwing big, wary eyes at Jihoon but every time he opens his mouth to interrupt, Jihoon raises a finger at him and continues. This feels good, somehow. Refreshing in a different way than adopting Woojin into this world had been. Jihoon doesn’t have to go all in with Seongwoo, doesn’t need another apprentice when he doesn’t even know what to do with the one he has. Seongwoo can be aware of this world without ever being in his own danger from it.  

“He’s apparently been under the _fucking mistaken_ impression that I used magic to cheat during Produce 101 and in doing so I also made him love me. Or fall in love-love with me. Not sure which one because some _fucking idiot_ woke me up, but I’ll get to that later.” Jihoon pauses again to growl “ _idiot,”_ under his breath before continuing. “I was avoiding him and he was trying to hunt me down and get an answer to the question of whether I cheated or not.”

Seongwoo’s bug out, but not in fear. He seems to have resigned himself to death by wild-cuddle and is now running his fingers up and down Bwuii’s bony back as she purrs into his chest. That might actually be a bit of her own magic at work but it also seems Seongwoo is a little more go-with-the-flow than Jihoon ever gave him credit for. “Did you?”

Stifling the urge to kick him, Jihoon sighs deeply. “NO _,_ hyung. I didn’t. I didn’t cast a spell to make you love me either, you can’t do that with magic. Love is an ingredient of spellcasting, never a result. And then… so… huh. We, uh—”

“You seem to have glossed over the part where you fell in love with him.”

Ignored. “I was avoiding him, his misconceptions were driving him insane, and he ended up surpassing my expectations and casting a couple of seriously complicated and downright _dangerous_ spells to corner me in my dreams. To interrogate me about what was going on and what trickery happened in Produce. He got there, into the world with Bwuii and I and we talked it out. The magical withdrawal is weaker in the Dreamworld, so we could actually trust each others’ words.”

“Eventually I clear his notions about magic creating love, and he gets a little cagey, a little evasive about it. Under the rather confident impression that Woojin had just accidentally revealed that he was in love with me because he thought I forced him to be… wow, saying that out loud is ridiculous…”

_/You bet it is./_

Seongwoo nods in approval, as though he actually heard Bwuii’s words.

“I kinda confessed to him?”

Seongwoo gapes for a moment before repeating himself in a strained voice.  _"You_ _seem to have glossed over the part where you fell in love with him.”_

“There was a sweater thing. Stuff with rocks. Fire. Hand holding. Did you know he can juggle?” Jihoon isn’t looking at Seongwoo though he’s so red in the face he’s afraid his hair will adopt the color once more.

“Well, it certainly doesn’t surprise me.” Seongwoo muses, making a face at Bwuii who, impossibly, returns the favor with a loud, gravelly purr and a ‘face’ of her own.

Jihoon looks at his hyung with a raised eyebrow. “The… juggling?”

“No, the _stuff with rocks_.” Seongwoo sighs melodramatically and starts crawling over towards Jihoon and the comatose Woojin, eventually curling up cross legged and leaning against the ladder that leads up to Jihoon’s bunk. “Not the juggling, not the rocks. You loving him. Love-loving him, I should say.”

Bwuii chortles and Seongwoo smiles as though he’s somehow beginning to pick up on Bwuii’s communication cues. Maybe she’s letting him, easing his comprehension along with a bit of her tactile animal magic. “This girl gets it.”

 _/I totally get it./_ Bwuii says _to Seongwoo,_ who seems to understand. Certainly not on the same level Jihoon and she share but there’s no question that Seongwoo experienced her emotion even if he didn’t quite manage to get the mentally spoken words.

Seongwoo twists and tugs Bwuii’s tufted ears into different directions in glee but continues addressing Jihoon. “You look at him differently than you look at the rest of us. Even _Minhyunie_ , and you flash him literally nothing else but starry eyes.”

Jihoon crosses his arms over his chest. Damn Seongwoo for being so observant and well spoken. His silence prompts the elder to hum to himself in consideration before continuing. “It’s like… you know your time with us is limited, and it reads as… I don’t know, a determination to make the most of it? Like you’ve accepted the shit truth of our expiration date but aren’t going to let it take away what time we do have. I’ve always admired that about you—that strange wisdom. Which I now know is _mystical_ in nature, good god.”

_/Holy shit. Damn. Pretty boy over here has eyes. Eyes that SEE. No wonder obsidian is no longer up to snuff./_

“How do I look at Woojin?” Jihoon asks quietly, eyes on his hands.

There’s a soft silence as Seongwoo arranges his thoughts. “You look at him as though you understand that you have eternity ahead. Something true and timeless, like the world already belongs to you two. You can each take the time to explore your relationships with the rest of us so well because you both know that _thing_ between you cannot die. Does that… make sense? We’re your past and present, but you two share a future that the rest of us just… can’t.”

Jihoon feels a pressure behind his eyes, that annoying itch of tears.

“You two have never acted as though you'll be ripped apart at the end of this and for the longest time I thought you were just ignoring the reality of the situation. But, oho, that's not it at all. It's just that you can both do magic and are _definitely in love-love with each other.”_

“You seem to be very down with the supernatural side of all this.” Jihoon evades, knowing that if Seongwoo gets going with his observations he might not be able to control his heart. Or his tears. Woojin is still in another state of existence and here Seongwoo is laying out this romantic path for them as though things weren’t still so unclear, so terrifying.

“Yes, but I am _living_ for the mundane angle. Do you need me to describe Woojin’s eyes when he looks at _you?_ I’d say magic if I didn’t now know that’s actually literal. I’m still going to say it. Magic. You are _his_ magic.”

Bwuii purrs. _/You’re his dream anchor, Jihoon./_

“If by dream anchor she means the factor Woojin intends to be present for the rest of his life, then yes, I agree with the cat.” Seongwoo says haughtily before freezing in place, a look of horror and intrigue alighting his face. “S-she’s in my _brain now!?”_

For the first time since the collapse of their Dreamworld, Jihoon bursts out laughing. Then he _keeps_ laughing, almost too much to sound sane. “Ong Seongwoo, you have been chosen. Looks like my familiar likes you enough to purr into your very _brainwaves.”_

It’s a bit of a cheap joke but Jihoon needs it, allows this laughter to dip a bit maniacal. They’re not out of the woods (not at all, actually, not in any way whatsoever) but it’s beginning to dawn on him how important, how powerful of an ally—fraternally, spiritually, you name it—Ong Seongwoo really is to him. It’s not love-love, it’s true brotherhood and equally as important.

“Fuck, why are you looking at me like that?” Seongwoo asks with just enough drama for Jihoon to know that the sudden alarm in his eyes is pure jest. “Are we going to be friends forever? Have I become a part of your future as well, hmm?”

“Well, Bwuii seems to really like you. Might as keep you along for the life haul.” Jihoon jokes despite meaning every word.

Seongwoo shoots him a bashful grin that he no doubt thinks hides the fact that he’s very touched. He and Jihoon don’t _do_ this. They don’t talk about things like this, they’ve never really been there for each other—partly because they never needed the other, but also because there has always been someone else for them when they needed another shoulder or emotional sounding board. Silence falls after this, not quite uncomfortable but certainly too tense to feel like any progress is being made.

Jihoon looks to his Books of Shadows and feels the nausea return, hot and churning. This time it’s directed inward; a return to the self-loathing from the Shatter, from Woojin, from everything. He wonders how Woojin is feeling, not where he is necessarily but how he _feels_ about it. Scared, confused, probably a bit manic as he attempts to harness the truly ridiculous amount of emotional energy he carries with him. He needs to direct that, to _use_ all that earth and water and passion to return him to Jihoon side.

This is certainly not a good time to fuck around.

 

☆

 

“Oh, oh oh OH—okay, yeah, right there, right there I want a _desert_. I’m talking rolling dunes, I’m talking a Mad Max scrap car racing gauntlet. Fuck it, just give me the Fury Road itself!”

Woojin is totally fucking around, having the time of his life telling Bird what he wants in his Dreamworld and laughing scratchily in glee as she tutts over their mindlink but still acquiesces to this latest ridiculous demand. With a small squawk the peregrine falcon slices forward through the air in the direction Woojin is dramatically pointing: one of the two remaining stretches of dark nothingness they still have yet to architect.

_/You’re such a child./_

“Not legally, nyah-nyah.” Woojin teases immaturely before continuing on his crusade to make the coolest world ever. “I want dead pasty dudes scattered around; I want scrap heaps and death races on the hour, every hour.”

Before his very eyes, bright ochre sand gushes from some point in the middle of the Interim space, rapidly flooding the scene and building into a rocky horizon and a sandstorm brewing up harmlessly far out. A hot wind picks up from this new southern corner of his world, and Woojin laughs brightly before running two steps forward into his new desert before sinking immediately past his knees in the hot sand.

 _/You want me to add a harem of underdressed toga-clad breeder ladies?/_ Bird bites with casual sarcasm, knowing just as much as Woojin does that he wouldn’t know what to do with one female, let alone a harem. She lands on his head as Woojin tries to trudge his way out of the sand trap, suddenly beat red and thinking about— _/Jihoon in a saucy desert outfit then? Jihoons, plural?/_

Woojin’s thought process derails entirely at that mental image. “Ahh, _no._ Bird, why you gotta?”

_/Why I 'gotta’ what?/_

“Remind me!” About Jihoon, about his confession.

Jihoon-in-an-aesthetically-skimpy-desert-outfit gets banished (temporarily) to the back burner. Woojin cups his hands over his eyes and sags down further into the sand. Bird hops from his head to a dune shelf a few meters away, managing to balance neatly utop the sand like an Elf on snow. “He’s probably _l i v i d_.”

Bird tilts her head in a very human display of confusion before correcting it with what Woojin has come to understand is her approximation of a lovetap. _/At you? If he gets mad at you for any part of this, I will have no qualms about pecking his pretty eyes out./_

He can feel her loyalty pulse aggressively from the still-bleeding puncture points of his left forearm. Woojin gulps. “Um. _I_ will have qualms about that. For sure. 100% qualms.”

 _/Stay on target, Human./_ Bird berates. _/You did nothing wrong. How could you? There’s no valid anger to be felt here, just a bunch of hand-wringing and confusion from everyone about everything./_

“Y-yeah, that pretty much sums it up, but—” Woojin starts, but Bird means business now and starts steamrolling through their mindlink.

_/Listen well. Before we can deal with any emotions we need to complete at least the skeleton of the dimension in order to have any basis from which to kick this astral form back into your corporeal body. Once we fill the eastern quadrant we’ll have enough of a platform to cook up some retrieval or reversal spell to get you back./_

“Okay. Nice.”

_/Then you burst out of your coma with something sweet and clever like, ‘Just you too’./_

“I’m digging this plan.”

_/Then you make out./_

“Fuck _yes_ we do.” Woojin pumps his fist.

_/Okay, final quadrant. Let us build the East in any image you desire./_

Hmm, well, he and Jihoon have standing plans to watch Akira together and before Woojin can even make the demand Bird soars around and out of sight, heading for the final slash of obscure shadow. After pulling himself out of the sand of Fury Road, Woojin turns around and jogs along after Bird up a large dune that eventually spills onto an expansive highway leading into what becomes a massive metropolis before his eyes. Tall, dark skyscrapers climb out of the shadows of the Interim, quickly building the neon city of Neo-Tokyo, trapped by design in a perpetual night lit by points and flashes of glowing neon.

_/It’ll take a bit for all four quadrants to settle and the gears to start working, but once they do we can figure out how to get you back./_

Parked before him on the highway is an exact replica of Kaneda’s bike from Akira, screaming red, and beside that is another bike in the same design painted a shocking white instead of crimson.

 _/For when Jihoon comes to play./_ Bird teases. Woojin smiles like a moron, jogging over to his vehicle and running a hand over the sleek red curves. There’s a key in the ignition, complete with a little white rabbit charm.

Craning his body to get a look at Jihoon’s bike and key, Woojin finds a small swallow keychain and runs a sheepish hand through his hair with a chortle. “That’s a little on the nose, don’t you think?”

 _/What can I say, I really like you two together./_ Bird cooes, shooting him a eye-fluttering sentiment over their bond. In an instant the charms disappear but the keys remain. Woojin can’t help but hop into the driver’s seat of his new bike and dramatically turn the ignition key, growling with the noise at it rumbles to life.

“Can I die here?” Woojin asks, testing the bike with all zero of his motorcycling experience and shrieking quietly when it jumps a quick two meters ahead without him being ready for it. “Painful hot death in an awesome motorcycle crash?"

 _/After I went through all the trouble of making it for you? Hmm?/_ Bird chides with all the power of the lethal baby sitter she is. Woojin is the baby in this scenario, no question. Properly chastised, he hops off the bike again and takes a few polite steps away. 

“I will test that later then. So… um. Business.” Woojin starts, holding out an arm that Bird comes to perch on gently. “You tired from all this?”

Bird tilts her head in a very birdlike way, uncomprehending. _/You are my energy, human. Are YOU tired?/_

Not really. But he’s beginning to get a little nervous. The thrill of world building, of watching a bird create this fantastic place has run its course and now his head and heart are starting to fill up with thoughts of failure, of erasure, of rejection and fear. “Okay. Okay so now what?”

_/This is… the hard part. I come ready-to-wear with a lot of magical knowledge that you didn’t yet possess, but now that our contract has been signed by blood and the Dreamworld has indeed been architected, you and I know the exact same things./_

Meaning they are now equally ill-equipped to get him back to his body. Woojin tosses Bird off his arm with a bellow of anguish before turning around and kicking his bike over. It topples to the side with a harsh clatter and after a few calming moments Woojin goes to set it back up again sheepishly. “S-sorry.”

 _/You don’t need to apologize. Look—/_ Bird flaps her wings once, strongly, and both Woojin and Jihoon’s bikes fall over. _/Don’t worry about the things here, everything is an abstraction./_

“Including us?”

_/Yes and no. You are the only real thing here, your astral form. I am you, that bike is you, YOU are the thing that now has a place to belong in the Cosmos. The form you are taking is this world./_

Woojin puzzles over this. “So that’s… okay, I got _that._ But how do I get back?”

_/How did you get here?/_

“Blacksalt and lapis.” Woojin answers her, spinning slowly on his heel to take in the entire world they’ve built. Neo-Tokyo as the East, the Fury Road to the South. “But there’s no more blacksalt and I’m pretty sure I remember Jihoon mentioning lapis was uniquely a one-way ticket for how basic the gem power is. Don’t think it can anchor me back, and even if it _could,_ I’m still missing the fucking conduit.”

He turns to the West, to the perfect recreation of his neighborhood growing up in Busan—like all childhood memories it is cast in sweet summer light, the memory embellished through the lens of innocence. Then finally he looks to the looming North, which is literally just the surface of the Moon. Can he use any of this? Planeswalking spells have a slightly different formula than most—instead of a barrier, there’s a starting location; instead of a resolution, there’s a destination—but all magic requires energy to fuel it and the pathway along which the spell travels.

And Woojin doesn’t have a path. He starts thinking out loud. “My location is myself. My destination is my body. My energy is you, which is to say, me.” Bird nods, now once more on his arm. “My declaration is…”

_/’Get me the fuck back to my body so I can use it to glomp all over Jihoon’s’?/_

“Well shit. I was going to go with ‘take me to the person I love’ but yours really _nails_ it…”

 _/Technically it’s you nailing it./_ Bird gives this the few moments it takes for Woojin to populate this statement with his own hormones. _/Oh my god you are BESOTTED. Humans are disgusting./_

“Shush, Bird. You think raptors have such sophisticated mating rituals? Don’t you just fly really prettily and coo at each other?” Woojin jokes.

_/We like to call them aerial displays. It’s very sophisticated; a series of tasks to determine if the male will prove to be a good lifemate including hunting and feeding. We even bow to each other, you uneducated little monster./_

“Uneducated? Please, Bird, you know _exactly as much as I do._ ” Woojin giggles. It’s a nice, almost-cruel back and forth they’ve created and Woojin finds it very natural. “I know all about the _ee-chupping_ dance and mating for life.”

_/Jokes on you, human, you’ve been wooing your life mate in the exact same way. Aerial maneuvers? That's literally just you jumping and flying around trying to get his attention. Trying to impress him with your physicality and sense of humor. You bring him food, you cook and clean to show off how good of a mate you already are to him. You two literally have a duet dance. Don’t try to tell me my methods are unsophisticated—they are literally YOUR methods./_

“Okay, okay, shush with the comparisons. I just want him to laugh and eat well and yeah, I do like dancing with him, shut up. How… shit. Okay, how _aware_ of this do you think… he… is.” Woojin plops lazily onto the long highway leading into Neo-Tokyo.

Bird squawks in her form of laughter. _/Well he fell in love with you, didn’t he? As for being aware of your flirting… I don’t think so. Subconsciously maybe. He wouldn’t have been so oddball about his confession if he knew for certain that you returned the sentiment. Based on your observations of him, Jihoon is at some large level more cautious than you, a little better at seeing and predicting flows of causality./_

“Meaning… ah, fuck. So he’s _terrified_ right now. Oh man, he's not going to be angry, he's going to lock himself up in his brain. He's going to overthink himself into a hole and stay there for the rest of his life. I gotta, I gotta get _back there, Bird!”_ As quick as he sat on the concrete, Woojin shoots to his feet again and wishes he could do more than just will them together. “What… what do I have to do? How do I fix this?"

Bird doesn’t have an answer for him.

 

☆

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh WHAT a filler ep but that's what I get for leaning heavily into platonic ongwink and also, uh, probably not wanting this to end yet  
> we're getting close, guys. one chapter left after this please send me well wishes and commentsif you want this done nice and timely 
> 
> stay tuned for ACTUALLY SOLVING THE PROBLEM hahaaa also here's the [twt](https://twitter.com/tinylittlebell)


	11. If Jihoon Love-Love Ping-Pings Me One More Time I'm Going to Rescind Our Contract and Eat Him Alive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Love is not a result of magic.
> 
> It's an ingredient.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> rULeS oF mAgIC:  
> Spells need ingredients/parts these ingredients can be physical or abstract as long as they WORK  
> the parts are called by many things but this is as best as I can spell (WHOOP there's a magic pun) it out:
> 
> initial threshold/starting point/ignition  
> +  
> energy/fuel/power that carries the spell  
> +  
> conduit/pathway between two objects/conceptual connection  
> +  
> resolution/declaration/the words that control the spell  
> +  
> destination/target/landing point/end effect 
> 
> i am definitely making the magic up as I go so forgive me if something doesn't make sense hahaha

☆

“Yeah. So. I know you’re not supposed to say ‘calm down’ to someone who’s very very not calm so… chill out?” Seongwoo tries.

Jihoon's eyes flick manically from the packed, spiky script of his own Book of Shadows to his hyung’s for one long moment before returning to his search. 

“First of all, Woojin is stupidly into you and there’s no conceivable universe where he wouldn’t b—” Seongwoo begins his attempt to raise Jihoon’s spirits but is quickly interrupted.

“—there are infinite universes hyung, he most certainly hates me in quite a few of those. And that’s only considering the ones where we’ve met.” Jihoon delivers sassily before closing his eyes and shaking his head slightly. "Do you really think I’m freaking out about my stupid confession? No, hyung. Woojin is about to be _erased._ This is about his fucking existence at this point, his very _concept._ I couldn't protect him. I couldn't control his growth—”

“And now he's in danger. I get that. That's about _all_ I get.” Seongwoo's morning shock of magical comas and cuddly bobcats has faded by now and he's currently on Jihoon's laptop taking a random online quiz to determine _Which Fictional Witch are You?_ “I can't help you here at all.”

Jihoon shoots him a sharp look over his book and Seongwoo holds up a gentle hand. “But I'm not going to leave you alone like this, so _use me._ As a sounding board. Just say things at me. Argue with yourself through me.”

_/And here I thought that's what I'm for./_ Bwuii purrs, not hurt at all. _/But you're not using me either./_

Well that's for the perfectly valid and rather dire reasons of Bwuii being capped at Jihoon's own limitations, Seongwoo being mundane, and Woojin being Nowhere. So far Jihoon's Book of Shadows is proving alarmingly useless when it comes to figuring a way out of this. He needs something _new,_ something novel. Improvised magic, collaborative magic, something that he's never done before.

“I… fuck. Well… there are a number of things that complicate the situation.” Jihoon begins, running a finger over the worn leather edge of his Book of Shadows. “Hedge magic, earth magic, astral webs... plus weirder, more nuanced arcana like the Shatter and the energy from our relationship.”

“A perfect magical storm.” Seongwoo responds pacifically.

Jihoon snorts to himself. “Not perfect, no. A perfect storm heals itself. Our situation is missing a balancing element, a connection point that pulls the concepts together.”

“What do you have and what are you missing?”

That's actually a very good question to clarify a situation that Jihoon has so far been too emotionally compromised to put into perspective. “I have Woojin's body. I know the recipe of his initial spell. I have the destination. I have you and me, and Bwuii makes three. I have everything between Woojin and I, past, present, and future. Lots of threes, that’s a good sign—that’s auspicious as hell.”

What he _doesn't_ have is a mechanism that can locate Woojin within the multidimensional matrix (the starting threshold) or a commonality that could create a pathway between Woojin's spirit and their corporeal plane (the conduit). Jihoon doesn't have the means to communicate with Woojin and control his journey so he needs to roll with this ambiguity, maybe use it. He also cannot forget _Woojin_ in all this, the independent moves he’s making—any spells and intents of his own that stand to further complicate Jihoon's attempts to retrieve him.

“Above all… above _everything,_  I'm missing a connection to him. I’m missing the fucking conduit...” Jihoon mutters, finally looking up at Seongwoo. “I can bypass a lot of bullshit and open up new options if only I had something to tie us together. Woojin might think to bring himself back to the lapis he anchored at me but the stones we have are too weak, are designed to be disposable. I wish he could just drag himself back to his body but we’ve been bending too many magical laws here—the path we’ve led is far too muddled.”

“So we need a conduit. A clear conduit between him there and him here.” Seongwoo is quick to sift through Jihoon’s disordered exposition and hone in on the core of it.

"His body doesn't  _technically_ need to be the destination. It just needs this plane, or something  _on_ this plane." Jihoon mutters, pinching his bottom lip between his thumb and forefinger as he thinks.

_/Okay, lets bookmark that and hop perspectives. What does Woojin have and what is he missing?/_ Bwuii jumps in, making it clear to everyone in the room that Seongwoo has been invited to her group chat.  _/What would he do, what would he rely on in this situation?/_

Jihoon puzzles over this for a moment before laughing once, gruffly. “Himself. He’d rely on himself even if it _wasn’t_ the most important part of getting him back. Woojin’s astral form is the initial threshold. The physical plane is the destination. Woojin alone is as least two, maybe three ingredients of the spell it’ll take to get him back. Fuck, let’s call it four.”

_/Four is pushing it. I call starting threshold, destination, and declaration—and that last is only because he holds the most cards here./_

“Puh-lease, have you _met_ Park Woojin? The kid has enough energy to sustain an entire medium-sized town. He’s his _own_ fuel.” Seongwoo counters, more correct than he can ever know. 

“That’s the obvious third.” Jihoon nods at his hyung and somehow manages not to smile at how pleased Seongwoo looks to be picking up these ridiculous concepts enough to actually contribute. “I think the declaration is up for grabs here but that doesn't matter as much. Our real pain point is the missing conduit.”

“Okay… okay let’s just shuffle the deck again.” Seongwoo muses, holding up a single forefinger as though gauging the direction of the wind. “Jihoonie, if you were Woojin… what would you do? How would you save yourself?”

That's obvious. “I'd take the potential energy from the lack of existence and build the pathway block by block. I’d use the lack of something—the power of the conceptual Negative—as the platform from which to create.”

Seongwoo gapes before tilting his head in consideration. “Negative? Negative... not like _bad_ though?”

_/Negative as in the absence of something. The potential energy that comes from consideration of what isn’t there./_ Bwuii clarifies purely for Seongwoo’s benefit. _/That’s true-fucking-blue Jihoon style: Becoming what everyone and everything is NOT./_

“Woojin, comparably, _IS_ everything.” Jihoon chimes in without missing a beat. “He’s truly, _perfectly_ who he is. Not only that, the magical concept of negative power has always been hard for him to grasp; he won’t even think to employ it despite it being the most apparent route out of this clusterfuckery.” Jihoon tries to pretend he isn’t blushing as he continues complementing Woojin. “He only uses what he has and when he finds himself bereft, he simply acquires what he needs. He would draw something from within, something that already exists. He would instinctively create his own tool out of everything he is. That’s the energy, the fuel. That’s the third element of the spell. Three outta five… just him.”

Seongwoo sighs softly. “Okay, is this super Woojin energy the tool? Or...? Can’t he maybe… _build_ the conduit?”

Jihoon shakes his head. “No. The tool is the mechanism that takes Woojin along the road we need. But it can’t build it. The creation or pre-existence of that pathway is the most important when the situation is as convoluted as ours. His initial spell used up the rest of our blacksalt so I can’t just… fuck, there _has_ to be something else. Something that's already there.”

A thick silence falls over them. Bwuii circles the perimeter of the small room, climbing up and down the bunks with a manic edge to her motions. Her anxious pacing is an extension of Jihoon and because his familiar is expelling some of their shared nervous energy he himself has been able to remain stiffly crosslegged on Woojin's bed, right by his side. He's been like this long enough to lose sensation from his left knee down to his toes, still pouring over his own Book of Shadows. Honestly Jihoon is about two minutes away from re-breaking into Woojin’s Book and reading every single word he’s written despite how awful that breach of privacy would be.

“Oh.” Seongwoo says quietly before repeating himself with more emphasis. “ _O_ _H.”_

He has been lounging on Guanlin's bed for the last fifteen minutes but now sits up carefully, setting Jihoon's laptop aside with controlled effort. After cracking his knuckles confidently, Seongwoo shoots Jihoon the single sleaziest grin the younger has ever received, ever. And _that_ is saying something.

“Love-love!” Seongwoo states ridiculously, wiggling his fingers for effect.

Jihoon searches his immediate proximity for a worthwhile projectile to embed into Seongwoo’s face but all he has is a small blue stone and a magical leather book, both of which are a bit too germane to the situation for Jihoon to use as a weapon. “I already _told_ you, hyung, the confession shit doesn't mean anything if we can't get him back. I need—”

Seongwoo looks like he wants to grab Jihoon by the shoulders and shake him back and forth. “— _l_ _ove-love._ That's what you need and that's what you HAVE.”

“The fuck—” Jihoon is quickly interrupted by Bwuii who stops pacing immediately.

_/—he's RIGHT. Jihoon, he's actually right!/_ She exclaims in mild disbelief. _/Love-love!/_

“I'm getting fucking _sick_ of you two just rubbing my feelings for him in my face! You realize none of that matters if we can't—”

“Love-love IS your conduit, you sweet moron!” Seongwoo loses a bit of his composure but reclaims it as soon as realization dawns embarrassingly on Jihoon’s face. “You need something that connects? Something true and strong and real enough to link the concept of him to the body you're stressing over? Wouldn't that just be you by his side, you as the destination? Isn't your conduit that love, that magnetism between you two? That palpable eternity that even the rest of us mundane humans can see?”

_/You’ve been so afraid of his reaction to your confession that you’ve banished it to the back of your brain. But Seongwoo is surprisingly right here, Jihoon. Your confession isn’t a complication, it’s the goddamn solution./_ Bwuii chimes in with an audible purr-growl, standing at Seongwoo's side.

“Fuck. You. Both. _I don't know if he feels the same_ _!”_ Jihoon’s temper finally snaps, fragile as it is, but Seongwoo and Bwuii don’t recoil.

Instead Seongwoo pushes himself off the bed and stands with his hands on his hips before Jihoon. Skinny though he may be, that height of his is nothing to mess with. “And I’m telling you he _does._ Good god, you are one of the most bizarrely competent and resourceful people I know but you are also  _blind._ Do you have eyes? Do at least one of them work? Do you _see_ how Woojin acts around you? Shall we talk about how many times he’s tried to kiss you, casually, randomly, perfectly in public?!”

“T-that’s just fan service—”

“NOPE. No. He tidies for you, he cooks for you. He fucking feeds you, Jihoonie.” Seongwoo continues, holding up a finger with each fact. “He leaves you alone when you need it. He comes to you when you need him. He doesn’t let you win at gaming because he knows that would piss you off more than losing outright. He plays with your hair like, four times as much as the rest of us. You seek him out and he lets himself be sought because it’s you. _Only_ you, don’t you see that? Don’t you feel that?”

_/PingpingpingpingpingpingPINGPINGPIIIIING!/_

“So fuck you, Jihoon. Even if—and this is a BIG FUCKING IF—he doesn’t love-love you back... he loves you like no one else. Isn’t that enough right now? Isn't the whole soulmates-best-friends-witches-lovers-gamer-boyfriends-dance-boys shit good enough to be your _goddamn conduit?!”_

Jihoon has never actually seen Seongwoo this heated up—there’s always been something controlled, almost delicate about his actions, more air than fire. Seongwoo isn’t quite angry but his exasperation sheds a different light on Jihoon’s trepidations here, namely that he’s being ridiculous. Everything Bwuii and Seongwoo have been saying is correct but that would be admitting to himself that Woojin loves him back. Which he _has to_ , maybe not in the way Jihoon wants but a way that is paramount to Woojin’s survival.

Seongwoo is right.

Jihoon closes his Book of Shadows and looks down at this hands. They’re shaking. “Yes.” It’s a whisper, small and scared. Jihoon repeats himself again, stronger. “Yes, that’s the conduit. Our everything.”

Seongwoo crumples in place like someone cut the strings of a marionette. “Goodness fucking gracious, was that so hard? Fucking hell."

Jihoon chews on his bottom lip, still looking at his hands. “You’re talking a lot of smack for someone who doesn’t know shit about magic.”

There’s no rancor in it, just a sense of embarrassment. Seongwoo takes a seat next to Jihoon on Woojin’s bed and ruffles his hair. “Yes, but I know _you two_ and like I said, I am absolutely living for the regular human side of this. Stuff like the 'sweater thing' and the 'hand holding'. What do we do now, do you kiss him? Do you want privacy to kiss him awake?”

_/Leave him alone, he’s still processing how dumb he was not to see the love-love conduit./_ Bwuii addresses Seongwoo, who shoots her double finger guns and a bad wink. _/Not a bad idea though, the kiss would probably fuel the spell a bit from our end.../_

“And here I thought you said a kiss wouldn’t do the trick…” Jihoon jokingly chies Bwuii, dragging his hands down his face. “Hyung, can you get my bag? It’s the leather one with the ivy embellishments.”

Seongwoo is off the bed in a flash and hustles over to the cubby currently unguarded by any magical misdirection. “Hm, you mean the one that I would have nicknamed Witch Bag without knowing it, in fact, _is?”_ Seongwoo slings it over his shoulder and starts digging through it. “Nothing’s going to bite me in here, right?”

“Not consciously. Though I’ve heard knives can draw blood on occasion.” Jihoon mutters quietly with much less of the fatalistic mood that has controlled him this entire morning. He sighs deeply, realizing he's a bit too tired to get up and do this himself. “If you’re already digging in... can you get three candles of the same size, one white, one black, one grey. Matches too. Also a square of handmade paper. Then I’ll need one of those knives I mentioned.”

“We’re using knives?”

“We’re using _blood._ ” Jihoon corrects, still not looking up. “If we’re using love as conduit we have to abstract: hearts in love beat together and create blood with thoughts of the other, therefore love is blood. I mean, that’s the most widely accepted interpretation among magical scholars even though it’s not... pertinent. At all. Anyway! Blood is our best shot. It should be enough but it would be better if he and I could be doing this in concert."

_/You two coming back together is literally the crux of all this, Jihoon. It’ll work./_ Bwuii hops up on the bed and snuggles with Jihoon while Seongwoo clumsily gathers the materials and hands them over.

“That raven feather quill as well, the one with the silver tip.” Jihoon orders, regaining a bit of witchy bounce. “Thanks hyung, but I can take it from here.”

Seongwoo just shakes his head. “Uh-huh nuh-uh uh-what? You’re kicking me out? You’re not going to let me see you do _magic?_ That’s cold, Jihoonie.”

Honestly Seongwoo _could_ be here but now that Jihoon’s brain has rebooted along the lines of magical action he realizes that this spell should be between him and Woojin only. If they are going to use their love as a conduit for this the focus should be about _them_. Of course Jihoon doesn’t actually explain this to Seongwoo, instead opting for a brattier approach. “I only share magic with Woojin, I thought you’d get that by now, hyung…”

Jihoon pouts to lessen the blow and Seongwoo actually does get it. Dramatically. “Ghuuhh—fuck you being all _romantic_ and _heroic_ and just… you’re gross. You two are gross. Love-love is gross. Ughghh, I should have never have solved your problem for you, you beautiful mess."

Seongwoo continues his rant even as he hands Jihoon his requested materials, plops the Witch Bag on the bed, and turns on his heel towards the door. “After all I do for you… all my brotherly love and consideration… and you aren’t even going to let me watch you bring his soul back? Rude. Come on Bwuii, let’s get out of here.”

If the bobcat was capable of pointing a confused finger at herself and asking, _‘who, me?’_ she’d be doing it. _/What? No. If anyone gets to be here it’s ME. I am literally Jihoon./_

_Go play with him, Bwuiiyah. I’ll holler if anything happens._ Jihoon tells her privately, nudging her along with a fond smile. Seongwoo needs a playmate and, really, Jihoon needs to be rid of distractions for this, even if one of those distractions is his own magical soul.

Bwuii gives him a gentle love nip on his wrist before hopping off the bed and plodding over to follow Seongwoo. He hovers over the threshold giving Jihoon something of a stink eye. “You sure?”

“I’m sure."

"Yeah, but are you  _sure?"_

"Fucking hell, go show Bwuii some of our live stages! I think she needs to see your skinny ass in action.”

Seongwoo scoffs but he and the bobcat leave at Jihoon’s request, the human shutting the door behind with a final look at Jihoon. “Bring him home, okay?”

All Jihoon can do is nod.

After the door clicks shut Jihoon gives himself a good minute of solitary silence before nodding sharply to himself and clapping his palms together—not as a function of witchcraft but because of nervous habit. He turns to the comatose Woojin with new energy and just starts talking.

"Okay you fucking weirdo, I’m taking you _back._ I have much more claim to you than anything in any world _ever_ and I’ll make the Cosmos agree with me."

Bwuii can hear him but Seongwoo cannot. She sends Jihoon the equivalent of the applause emoji over their link but then drifts away; still keeping in touch but actively dampening the knee-jerk connection they share when they're actually on the same plane. Jihoon doesn’t acknowledge her applause and continues.

“At this point you could come back and spit in my face for love-loving you and it wouldn’t matter to me. As long as you get back. You need to exist with me even if you hate me. Which you don’t.” Jihoon isn’t sure that talking to Woojin helps connect them but it serves to help him work through his thoughts and feelings. Maybe that’s what magic boils down to—that little spark when thought fuels emotion and emotion fuels thought. “I know you don’t hate me. I know you love me and at this point it really doesn’t matter _how.”_

After gathering the materials Seongwoo had given him Jihoon haphazardly tosses the three candles on Woojin’s comatose chest and turns away only to turn back in a dramatic double-take once his brain analyzes just _how_ they fell.

The candles are cheap, each about a handspan long. A Jihoon handspan, not a Woojin one. Bwuii pings him at this thought but Jihoon ignores her in the face of such an auspicious random landing. An auspicious  _magical_ landing. Somehow Jihoon tossed the candles on Woojin so perfectly they fell in a neat triangle around his solar plexus, practically highlighting what he needs to do.

“Fuck. Me. Up. This just might work.”

After a quick flurry Jihoon gets a pen and his Book of Shadows in hand and furiously flips through it to a new page.

_CXCIII: Take Woojin back from the Cosmos_

_Again, fuck the moon_

_I have no idea what I’m doing but also it looks like I do. Or don’t. That’s not the point. The candles fell on Woojin as though I’m not the only one who wants him back. Or… or it might even be HIM on his end, trying to get any message through. I doubt he’s capable of coordinating but he has the soul power of a young god and is probably instinctually sending out a spiritual SOS. If this isn’t strict permission from the Cosmos to bring him back to me, it’s pretty fucking close._

_Woojin has himself, he has our love, he has his own energy. I have his body, I have our love, and I will declare how much I love him at the top of my fucking lungs. I bet even my shitty confession could count as the declaration. Together—ONLY together—we have the spell to bring him home. How fucking poetic._

_WE will need:_

_Candles: white, black, grey_

_Handmade paper: single square_

_Feather Quill: raven with silver tip_

_Blood: mine and Woojin’s, mix together to write the declaration_

_Sorry, normally my BoS entries are better than this but… it’ll work. It has to._

 

☆

 

“Okay so, wait. What am I missing here?” Woojin asks Bird. They’re currently on the Moon and Woojin (read: Bird (read: actually Woojin)) has decided he’s _not_ going to take advantage of the lessened gravity to take a thousand Giant Leaps for Mankind. Instead he has been using his foot to draw a sloppy casting circle around himself, about one meter in radius.

_/Conduit./_ Bird replies, flying around his head as though she isn’t affected by the altered gravity of the northern quadrant of their Dreamworld. _/You have the threshold, the destination, the fuel, and maybe a vague declaration. But you need to connect, you need the path between you and your real plane. Right now there is no existing path between your spirit and your flesh besides the obvious fact that both belong to you./_

Woojin puzzles over this while dragging his toe through the Moon dirt to create a pentagram out of the circle he’s already drawn. “And that's not enough, is it. Okay. So let’s say Jihoon is in panic mode. _And_ witch mode.”

_/He definitely is./_

“He’s doing something on his end. He’s probably near me right now, fussing over my body.” Woojin mutters with a blush. “Because he likes me.  _Just_ me."

_/Don’t be a dick. You can tease each other about your feelings after we get you back to him and you can confess your own bleeding heart. But I see what you’re getting at. Jihoon can be the tether to your body. Fuck, he’s abstractly the destination too. It starts with you—/_

“—and ends with him. Oh. AH! Well, uh, isn’t that it, then?” Woojin stutters, trying to use words to piece together something he can’t readily express. “What starts with me and ends with him?”

_/Love. What starts with him and ends with you?/_

“Love.”

_CONDUIT._ They both say in unison.

…

“W-why am I so embarrassed?” Woojin asks after a beet red pause, hanging his head and trying to shake it of his sudden bout of awkwardness. “I, um…”

Bird floats to a halt above his pentagram and eventually plops down straight in the middle with a squawk. _/A lot has been going on, Human. You haven’t really had time to process any of this and now here you are, using something incredibly profound and courageous as the most important part of a spell you don't understand, all of it dangerou—you know what, Woojin, I’m not making this any better am I?/_

No, but the fact that she called him by his real name and not that half-scathing, half-loving _Human_ somehow lifts his spirit.

"Nah, you’re good. Apparently I’d be Nothing and Everything in the Cosmos by this point if you didn’t come swoop me out.”

_/Well that IS true./_

“Okay so, what, do we need to add more details to the pentagram or...?” Woojin asks, tilting his head to the right and then to the left as he scrutinizes his work. “I’m not talking some FMA transmutation circle or anything but even Jihoon’s spell circles are more complicated than this. Actually now that I think about it… Jihoon prefers triangles anyway. Er, triangle circles. Triangles in circles.”

_/Then let’s make a triangle. We should try to sync up with Jihoon as much as we can without taking from your own sources of power./_

Bird takes flight off the pentagram, blowing away the top layer of moon dirt with a magical hum accompanying the loud sweep of wings. Once she's cleared a new slate Woojin traces the circle with his foot again, this time populating it with a triangle instead of a star as he had before.

_/Very good, Human. Now, do see that knife in your hand?/_

Suddenly there’s a slim blade cradled neatly in his palm, a matte black stiletto that looks an awful lot like Jihoon’s spare athame. Maybe he should start thinking of it not as Jihoon’s extra but Woojin’s own.

“Oh man, _more_ blood magic?” Woojin whines without any real heat, tossing the blade between his hands a few times just to have something to do with all his nervous energy. He’s always been an energetic person, always coursing with the desire and ability to keep _going_ , to keep moving and jumping and dancing. Maybe that’s a good thing.

_/It IS a good thing. We’re trying to fuel a very powerful spell and I have no doubt that you can do it. You have more than enough power for this. We just need to activate the circle, which means—/_

“—blood. Yeah, yeah, I get it. Bleed me dry, why don’t you? Are you at least going to tell me why?”

_/You are the starting threshold and your blood is a perect proxy for that. You are the fuel as well, the thing that activates the circle. Blood is your only option./_

“S-so... wait... We build as much of the spell as possible and then what, hope it just... works!?” Woojin eyes the stiletto blade with an angry frown.

_/We hope Jihoon has a better plan than we do./_

☆

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mushy-gushy lovey-dovey love-love rabu-rabu hearteu-hearteuuu
> 
> more of the same ol "friends and familiars make fun of 2park for their feelings" 
> 
> sorry omg this feels sloppy and embarrassing haeeeehhhh
> 
> helllllo there [twitter](https://twitter.com/tinylittlebell) but please take a sec to comment below~~


	12. I Honestly Have No Idea How Long I Can Keep the Witchboys Secrets But at Least I Have Two New Wild Animal Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Double double toil and trouble;  
> Fire burn and cauldron bubble.  
> One boy trapped in a world of his creation;  
> Another agonizing over his own dictation.  
> By the pricking of my thumbs,  
> Something disgustingly romantic this way comes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uh oh this finally reached the point where I need a formatting key lol here goes:  
>  _/This is familiar dialogue/_  
>  (this is a form of woojin pov)
> 
> also an athame is a small, often black handled dagger/knife/letter opener used for lots of witchery 
> 
> get ready to cringe and smile and beam because this CONCLUDES this magical 2park adventure. thank you for reading so far, thank you for loving this and sending me love for it. so yeah guys get ready to FUCKING DIE I may have out romantic-fluffed myself

☆

 

After shoving Woojin’s still body closer to the edge of the bed to give himself more space closer to the wall, Jihoon wastes no time taking his athame to his own thumb in a quick slash, barely remembering to wrap the wound after squeezing enough of his blood into a small ceramic dish. Contrary to how roughly he had treated himself Jihoon takes his time with Woojin, moving as gently as he can with trembling hands. Cursing himself softly, he shakes out his fingers harshly and attempts to calm down and bring his energies inward.

Eyes on Woojin’s closed eyelids, Jihoon tries not to wonder what his astral form is seeing. Woojin is, for all intents and purposes, dreaming right now—but unlike mundane REM sleep, his eyes are not darting about beneath his lids. The only outward indication that Woojin still draws breath comes from the smallest of exhalations that Jihoon can only feel when he holds his hand close to his parted lips.

Biting his lip, Jihoon whispers, “ _s_ _orry,_ ” before swiping the the razor’s edge of his athame across Woojin’s thumb, wincing as he collects the same amount of blood in the dish.

 

(On his Moon, Woojin is just about to take the thin blade to his thumb for the spell when a red cut runs diagonally across his thumb before he can actually do the deed himself. The stinging pain registers a moment later. “Huh. By the pricking of my thumb—"

_/—something Jihoon-y this way will come./)_

 

Jihoon takes even more time wrapping up the finger after collecting a sufficient amount of his blood. After preparing the silver quill with proper dabs of anointing oil, Jihoon brings the black feather across his lips, breathing across it with a magical whisper. He uses the athame to mix their blood—their _hearts_ , for fuck’s sake can this get more cloyingly romantic?—before ladening the quill with enough to write with and holding this in the air above the sheet of handmade paper.

It takes Jihoon some time to decide what to write on the paper for the spell. What declaration, among endless possibilities, could possibly to secure this conduit? By the time he comes to his answer he needs to refill his quill. With a melancholy, defeated sort of smile Jihoon scratches down two words in small script.

_Just you._

He blows over the blood ink with the same magical whisper that gave life to the raven quill before nodding and shifting his crosslegged position into an even smaller pretzel. Next comes the fun bit. Jihoon must secure the three candles as the three points of the triangle that had fallen so propitiously over Woojin’s solar plexus. Now, he could set up a small platform on his chest and secure the candles there, but that’s much more removed from the target than a spell like this should be—than it _needs_ to be, because Jihoon is not about to take any more chances with Woojin’s safety.

Ideally Jihoon would set the candles utop Woojin’s actual skin, securing them by using the hot wax of the candles themselves as something of a fragile glue to hold and seal them to his chest. He’s done similar things before to his own flesh and knows from experience that efficacy is increased by eliminating the divide between skin and spell. It has worked for him before and it will work now. Jihoon just has to pour hot wax over Woojin’s chest, that’s all.

So…

_/Hey, just… checking in. Your heart’s beating real fast there, loverboy, I’ve got pings for days./_

Shooting Bwuii a middle finger over their link, Jihoon shakes his head viciously before exhaling a huge sigh. He is a witch, he is a professional, and if he has to disrobe and pour hot wax over the boy he likes in order to work some desperate witchcraft that will _bring him the fuck back_ , Jihoon should be capable of doing that.

So…!

Red as sunset, Jihoon’s fingers find the hem of Woojin’s black tank and after reprimanding himself once more for being Fucking Lame, he begins to roll the shirt up, over his shorts and navel, then ribs— _PROFESSIONAL,_ Jihoon reminds himself—before stripping off the rest up to his armpits in a rush. After another quick consideration Jihoon maneuvers Woojin’s comatose arms out of the shirt and manages to remove it completely. His tan stands out warmly from the white sheets and Jihoon lets himself have one small moment to admire his skin and the core muscles he’s been building, currently relaxed but rather obvious even in his magical slumber.

“Okay. Okayokayokay.” Jihoon mutters to himself, cracking his knuckles before wringing them out sharply. Holding his breath, he traces the triangle he intends to form around Woojin’s solar plexus with his left forefinger, tapping out the three edges as he reaches them. He repeats the drawing of the triangle two more times to make three in all.

After leaning back and retrieving a cheap plastic lighter, Jihoon bites his lip and ignites the first candle, the white one, and waits for it to burn long enough to generate enough liquid wax to suit his purposes. Soon he accumulates enough and tilts the candle horizontally to pour a thumbnail-sized puddle of white wax onto Woojin’s skin, unsurprised when his body doesn’t twitch, doesn’t flinch as it should when slathered with hot wax. Jihoon waits for it to cool just a bit, blowing over the wax to speed the process before it can reach the proper state of viscosity and glue the candle in before the seal can fully dry.

He repeats this process with the other two candles, grateful at least that Woojin’s near-dead state has left him still enough to keep this precarious wax mess balanced. Three candles, white, grey, and black, organized in a triangle around his solar plexus. Three small fires flickering, dancing in unison with his gentlest exhalation. It’s all so delicately assembled that a mere laugh could bring it down.

 

(On his Moon, Woojin crouches down in order to feed his blood to the edge of his circle, watching in sick fascination as what he traced starts to fill in with a rosy red light. Soon the entire spell circle is activated, not shining out so much as pulsing like glowing, enduring embers. The magic casts a pink glow over the bleakness of his lunar surroundings and for the first time since they finished building this world Woojin toys with the idea that this all might just work out for everyone. That’d be neat.

Ever since activating the circle with his blood Woojin has been chasing the faintest sensation, one at once familiar and foreign. Something tugs his awareness towards the pink circle but instead of the feeling being notably magical in origin, it reminds Woojin more of his knee jerk compulsion to seek out Jihoon—those natural, regular things like giving him a double-take or positioning himself to be closer to him. On the other hand, there’s something unique and _new_ about this, more reminiscent of his love and glee every time it’s _Jihoon_ who instigates, who tugs his chair closer to Woojin for the simple reason of more intimate proximity.

“Fuck, Bird, this is going to _work_.”)

 

“Please let this work.” Jihoon whispers to Woojin, careful not to disrupt his candles as he reaches for the piece of handmade paper with their mixed blood. “I fucking _declare_ our love, by the wind and words of my own uttered confession, written in the heart we share.”

He’s really just making this up as he goes but when it comes down to it Woojin is in the same boat. That they are both improvising out of necessity should only serve to sync them better but as an unexpected benefit it’s also making Jihoon feel strangely more comfortable with the improvisation when normally he would shy away from it. While remaining mentally aware that Woojin is making his own moves, Jihoon has only been fearing their outcome but now he’s beginning to accept and build upon the trials of their shared situation. It’s not Jihoon’s style but he cannot afford to negate anything in this situation as he likes to—instead he and Woojin must build something together.

At first it was hard to catch (especially since Jihoon’s focus is on anything but himself at the moment) but now he’s beginning to recognize these small pangs of awareness in the back of his mind, as though something invisible was trying to get his attention from either too close or too far away.  

The _thing_ swoops around his magical peripherals in a fast, friendly whisper that Jihoon can’t quite translate—unmistakably magical in origin and at some level familiar. It’s liquid and much too aerial to suit Jihoon, who has always been more of a climber, a percher, someone who proceeds with both agility and caution. His Lynx, his Bwuii.

This is no magic of his, and Jihoon actually smiles a bit as he mentally leans deeper into the sensation. Gentle precision and controlled power? A sense of constant motion and hidden complexity? Then there’s something else, something softer and warmer that is both Jihoon’s and not-Jihoon’s—like the sweater and heat they shared that very first night on the roof.

“Oh, hey there chamsae...” Jihoon says to the comatose man, trying his utmost to ignore the spark of hope in his chest. It’s definitely partly Woojin’s magic but even this feels different—evolved somehow. “I  _feel_ you, you fucking punk. Let these flames light your way back to me.”

As Jihoon finishes the first stage of his improvised spell the three flames cease their natural flickering and glow a bright rose, quickly growing longer than the size of the wicks would normally permit. This new fire hums hungrily, almost desperate for the next part of the spell.

“With the consuming of this declaration I forge a conduit from the love we share. Binding through space and time, connect me with you who I love, who loves me in return.”

Holding the paper to the pink flames, Jihoon holds his breath as it engulfs in the same shade, casting an otherworldly pink glow over the entire nook of Woojin’s bunk.

 

(Woojin’s circle on the Moon ignites before them, emanating waves of inviting pink light so bright he has to cover his eyes with his forearm. As it really gets going the circle starts to gently inhale the fine upper layer of moondust around it, consuming it with the finality of a black hole.

“Well well well...” Wooijn whistles, watching as a slightly larger moon rock rolls over his foot, tugged towards the spell like a magnet. “I’ve played enough video games to know a portal when I see one.”

_/Video games are not—/_

_“—_ and _that,_ my pretty peregrine, is a fucking portal.”)

 

Cast in sharp shadows from the pink candlelight, Jihoon bites his lip with a fond little grin. “We’re connected by the love we share, thee and me. This conduit leads me to you.”

Jihoon looks over at Woojin's face for a heartbeat, directing the spell where it really needs to go. After nodding to himself, Jihoon shuts his eyes tight and utters the declaration that will trigger the most important spell of his entire life.

“Just you.”

 

(The pink portal on the surface of the moon practically erupts this time by some cue or call from Jihoon’s end. It starts tugging everything with a greater pull than before—so much that moon dust starts to whip across his skin and Bird immediately skyrockets up and away with a wary squawk lest she finds her light form sucked inside the portal before they were ready. Woojin is in no danger of being pulled in (quite) yet but he does instinctively dig his toes deeper into the dirt and redistributes his weight against the still-strengthening tug of the portal.

“Holy shit, Bird...” Woojin calls to her over the rising hum of magical energy. “Is this... working? Is this...”

Bird lands swiftly on his shoulder, gripping painfully tight to avoid being sucked into the Pink Sausage Portal. _/I... I actually don't know. What do you feel?/_

Uncovering his eyes, Woojin focuses on the retina-burning pink and strains his ears in the attempt to make sense of the magical music it emits. There's something there. Something familiar, but not for the fact that it's actually happened or he's experienced the sensation before—instead more like an echo of all his rose-tinted daydreams of Jihoon, the dumb ones where they go on a date without cameras and hold hands in the backstage shadows. He takes a few cautious steps forward. Is _that_ future where this portal leads?

The closer he stumbles the more he comes to understand the magical directive that has been whispering so sweetly. Woojin isn't feeling what they currently share but what they might become. _Will_ become, if he has anything to say about it.

And oh boy does Park Woojin have something to say.

“Him. Jihoon.” Looping curls of warm energy, soft static. That nearly tangible spirit of the air before a storm. “But there's something else…”

_/You. It's magic shared between you. I mean he DID almost slice your thumb off. That little nugget is using your blood as both a proxy for you and to mix with his own./_

“Yeah, I don’t know… it just feels a bit… lovey-dovier than that.” Woojin explains weakly before shaking his head with a poorly-contained grin and directing his next words into the portal itself, holding his hands on his hips in a very Jihoon fashion.

“You love me, huh? Prince of all everything, spark of my world, Park Jihoon of the flame and flower. Well better get ready to deal with your feelings for me because _I love you to hell and back._ Literally—even though I haven’t quite gotten back yet.”)

 

Back on the corporeal plane Jihoon laughs out loud but can't pinpoint why.

 

(“I’ve loved you before the magic, before the rooftop. You were my world before you ever invited me into yours.”

Bird shoots Woojin a very motherly sort of mental nudge over their link but apart from that doesn’t insert herself into this process.

Woojin takes another step closer to the portal, his mouth suddenly dry. “You mean so much to me I chased you into your dreams. And then got _stuck there._ Not the point. I would do it again, I _will_ do it again. I would fight the fucking Cosmos for you. Again and again.”

His toes are at the shining pink edge of the circle now and despite how 100% percent of him believes this portal will take him back to where he needs to be, Woojin hesitates because fucking hell, what if it _doesn’t_. What if this portal snaps him up and spits him out in the middle of a volcano or into a world without oxygen? Now he has his right foot raised, poised to step right into another dangerous magical mess.

Something stupid pops into his head as he fights this sudden bout of doubt, a memory that Woojin prizes so dearly he barely lets himself dwell on it in case further scrutiny would somehow convince him that it was a daydream and never actually happened.

Once upon a happy time, Jihoon back-hugged him.

It was quiet and sneaky, opportunistic even—a good half of Wanna One was packed into a small elevator with Jihoon in a far back corner and Woojin right ahead of him. As fortuitously as if it had actually been planned in advance, Daniel, Minhyun, and Guanlin (the Three Towers) stood perfectly between Jihoon and Woojin and the elevator video camera and Jihoon took the opportunity to steal a truly uncharacteristic back-hug during the eternity between floors 7 and 15.

Woojin still remembers e v e r y t h i n g. The light but oddly determined fingers running around his waist, eventually coming to weave together right above Woojin’s navel. The puffs of little breaths against his neck and ear as Jihoon propped his chin on Woojin’s shoulder and sighed into him, chest to back. At first Woojin had frozen, afraid that he was pushing boundaries (even though he was the _recipient_ of such intimacy) but he eventually came to relax against his shorter frame, even tilting his head the slightest bit towards Jihoon’s on his shoulder.

Jihoon had retracted his arms at the fifteenth floor (they were rooming on the 16th) but kept his chin on Woojin’s shoulder. In those final moments before the elevator doors opened, Jihoon went so far as to tilt his face closer inward in what Woojin’s lovestruck heart came to classify as ‘nuzzling’ and his equally lovestruck brain ended up defining as ‘probably nuzzling?’

Oh shit… Jihoon _does_ like him. Love him. Love-love him. Woojin retracts his hovering foot and brings it solidly to the ground. “Let’s fucking get me back to my physical body so I can kiss you already, sheesh. I’ve been trying to kiss you for an entire year.”

With a quick breath Woojin closes eyes and conjures up the memory of the back-hug and laughs once before shaking his head, muttering, “Just you.”

After making sure Bird is secured on his shoulder, Woojin takes a flying leap into the portal.)

 

Without warning Jihoon’s three pink flames spark wildly and a curiously familiar _aaiiiyaaaakK_ echoes quietly from the fire as though at the end of a very long tunnel—which given the nature of the situation is not inaccurate. Jihoon barely has time to hope it’s not a scream of agony before the candles extinguish in one final breath.

Woojin’s body jolts violently, toppling the candles from his chest in the process and after another pained spasm his eyes shoot open with a very loud, “JusT YOUGhgAH!”

He grasps at whatever’s closest to him, which happens to be Jihoon, hands clamping anxiously over his wrist and knee in a fearful vice grip as his mind struggles to catch up to what his senses are registering. “Oh fuck. Oh fuck, that… J-Jihoonie. Oh my god. You… did that… why is there wax on my chest…? W-why am I shirtless, did you—oh fuck, nonono, I’m sorry I’m sorry, please don’t cry!”

Fuck, Jihoon _is_ crying. Despite the fact that Woojin woke up half naked with wax all over his chest the _only thing_ he cares about is making sure Jihoon is okay. Woojin is _back,_ he is fine, he is warm and real and here so of course Jihoon is okay. That’s why he’s crying.

“I-I’m not crying.” Jihoon wipes a tear and shakes his head before covering his face with his hands and leaning back against the wall.

It worked. It fucking worked. What a nightmare.

Woojin pushes himself up shakily to mirror Jihoon’s crosslegged position, hands immediately flying to Jihoon’s shaking shoulders with a tender squeeze. “Hey, hey, don’t cry. You did it. You got me back and I’m whole and happy and absolutely fucking in love with you so please, please—”

Spreading the fingers covering his eyes, Jihoon shoots Woojin a look that shuts him up in one swoop. “WE did it, don’t sell yourself short. A-and I’m not crying, you are.”

Woojin is tearing up too, probably because he is. Unlike Jihoon he doesn’t try to hide it, hands instead moving from Jihoon’s shoulders to his neck, then threading his long fingers softly through his hair. “Yeah maybe I am crying, so what? I just… shit that was all really fucked up, huh?”

Nodding, Jihoon drags his hands down his face to wipe his tears away before settling his fingers around Woojin’s forearms and looking down at his lap.

Woojin isn’t having any of that. “Hey, look at me.”

He does. Woojin runs a thumb under Jihoon right eye to wipe away the lingering tear tracks. “Did you mean it?”

“Did I… what?”

“‘Just you’. Did you mean it?”

Exhausted and in love, Jihoon nods again, tightening his grip on Woojin’s forearms.

Woojin scooches closer with an almost childish grin. “No take-backs allowed. You love me.”

Pink-faced, Jihoon sputters. “I… you… I never _said that_. Technically.”

“Uh huh.” Woojin isn’t fooled. “Cool. Well, I’m about to smush my mouth on yours and it’s gonna be clumsy and cute. Prepare your heart.”

It’s impossible for Jihoon to prepare his heart—he knows Woojin’s smell, his smile, his magic, his fucking _heart,_  and all of those things are leaning in quick, closing the distance with that gentle strength Jihoon always adores. Jihoon does his part to close the distance, eyes flicking back and forth between Woojin’s eyes and his lips, fingers sliding down Woojin’s bare forearms to settle in the crook of his elbows. Closer, closer, Woojin’s grin grows wider, brimming with pride and admiration, fully displaying his snaggletooth. His eyes are a different matter entirely, target locked on Jihoon’s lips with a boldness that doesn’t match his cuteness.

Woojin is also shirtless and that is… that is a fact Jihoon may have to consider with his hands (with his _lips)_ after they seal this deal right here.

Except...

 _/Ahem. You lovebirds have an audience./_ Cooes a tremendously pleased voice on his Bwuii frequency that Jihoon doesn’t recognize.

Bwuii follows up with a low, almost evil laugh. _/A rapt fucking audience./_

Both Woojin and Jihoon turn to the door, caught in an a moment of intimacy that neither of them have ever had with another. Seongwoo stands in the doorway, Bird on his shoulder and Bwuii at his feet, an expression of enchanted delight illuminating his face. This joy vanishes as they look at him as one with a ferocious, sexually-tense glare and Seongwoo raises his hands in front of his chest defensively.

“O-oh, I um… huh. So. Looks like everything’s… um, fucking great, okay. I just—” Seongwoo gestures to the falcon on his shoulder with his head. “All of the sudden there was this bird? So! I thought I’d inquire, maybe check in on… y’all.”

“I can kill you, right here, immediately, with at least 7 spells.” Jihoon growls, still all tied up in Woojin. “This idiot can end you with 2.”

“We will kill you 9 times over hyung. Get the fuck out.”

Bwuii gives a cute little yowl and headbutts Seongwoo’s knee while Bird stretches out of her wings so that her feathers are blocking his view of Jihoon and Woojin. “Oh come ON! You’re kicking me out again?” Despite his affront, Seongwoo does turn tail and leave, muttering about respect and rude horny kids.

Woojin has an eagle-eyed lock on Seongwoo’s back as he retreats but Jihoon’s attention is already back on him. Before the door fully closes Jihoon takes advantage of the distraction to edge closer and steal a soft, full kiss that lasts 3 long seconds. Jihoon draws away in order to get a look at his handwork and is not disappointed to see Woojin’s eyes half-closed, lips parted, chasing his own as Jihoon draws back with what he hopes is a satisfied smirk but is not—it’s definitely a shy little smile. Woojin’s the one with the smirk.

“Love you…” He whispers quietly, breath mingling with Jihoon’s and continuing to press forward as slowly as Jihoon teasingly leans back. “Love-love-love you.”

“Ping-ping-ping.” Jihoon responds in kind, snorting as Woojin raises an eyebrow at this. “I’ll tell you lat—”

Later, because at that moment Woojin cradles his head and smothers his words with a deep kiss, then another, and many more. Later takes a good hour to arrive, by which time Jihoon is also shirtless and Woojin cannot seem to stop beaming.

 

☆

 

The night is darkest before the dawn and the same sentiment applies to magical withdrawal. The very day of the Dreamworlds nightmare the moon rises full, and with its ascent draws all the ill will and misery from the Wanna One household, siphoning the venom and vitriol back into the Interim where it originated and where it now belongs.

Bird ends up being just as fond of Seongwoo as Bwuii is and the three of them open up a shared frequency in order to further explain magical concepts like moon phases and withdrawal and how they have manipulated the social atmosphere over time. Seongwoo listens with rapt attention, barely remembering to let Jisung know that Woojin is okay and that he woke out of his comatose exhaustion with enough energy to rival the sun.

The first to arrive at the dorm after this message is sent are Guanlin and Minhyun. Armed with matching smiles the former holds a large pot of fresh, peachy-pink orchids to his chest while the latter carries a bag of assorted plant supplies. Considering they have represented the two poles of Wanna One’s internecine civil war, even Seongwoo understands this means the withdrawal has, well, withdrawn. Buying new flowers was the maknae’s idea and Minhyun actually went with him and paid for the floral peace token as a show of apology for being such an uncharacteristic asshole to Guanlin specifically.

Zipping up Daehwi and Jinyoung’s mess is more complicated and will take more time—Jihoon and Woojin weren’t the only two who had to work out their romantic inclinations—but when they arrive they’re side-by-side, shittalking one of their vocal trainers. Jaehwan and Jisung come right after them, deep in some ridiculous conversation that requires a maximum of enthusiastic gestures—that their arms are linked has really nothing to do with the topic of conversation (aliens). The mood at the dorm is fantastic, all overseen by a Seongwoo who knows too much.

The last to arrive are Daniel and Sungwoon bearing matching facemasks and nondescript street fashion, returning happy and triumphant from grabbing a grand meal of barbeque together without being recognized. They come bearing small trinkets and gag gifts that reminded the pair of their members (things like a pink facemask with a pig nose detail for Jihoon and a stuffed animal otter charm for Daehwi) all picked up at some cheap street market. When Seongwoo teases them about their de facto date, they both laugh in spooky unison and neither confirm or deny the observation.

Bwuii and Bird camouflage themselves to everyone but Seongwoo, the bobcat enjoying herself by playing a rather hilarious game of ‘how close can I get to the boys without touching them’ and the falcon laughing at her new feline friend and making comments about the members and the dorm lifestyle. Occasionally Seongwoo bursts out laughing at their invisible antics and so far Minhyun has caught him staring into what he views as empty space twice already.

Back in their room, Jihoon and Woojin hear the happy noises from the others but tug each other closer and wonder aloud if it might not be better for them to just escape back to one of their Dreamworlds away from the other members. They toy with the idea in-between kisses but eventually Woojin sings a song of reason and after one last languid makeout they start piecing themselves back together and quickly clean up the detritus of their witchcraft.

Eventually they leave their room, Woojin hovering directly behind Jihoon in order to sneakily keep touching him with a hand on the small of his back. Jihoon reaches a hand behind and seeks out Woojin’s, linking pinkies tightly before drawing away and moving forward into the living room.

“Presenting…” Jihoon announces, drawing the attention of 9 happy people. “He-who-isn’t-quite-dead-yet, Park Woojin!” Woojin imitates the noise of an airhorn before Jihoon continues his heralding. “No longer comatose. He appreciates your care and consideration.”

Woojin snorts from behind Jihoon but is pleased to see how everyone else lights up when they see him. Jihoon isn’t even working any witchery on them—they’re all actually smiling. The past few days of shit feel like a bad dream and equally as inconsequential.

“Fucking shit, is this a happy ending?” Woojin mutters right into Jihoon’s ear from behind.

“Do we deserve a happy ending?” Jihoon bats back.

Woojin pinches his hip lightly. “I know _you_ do…”

About to round on him, Jihoon actually shifts his weight to make the turn but before he can Daniel makes a very interesting observation.

“Why are you two wearing each others shirts?”

 

☆

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ive appreciated every kudo, blushed at every comment, and find a bit of self esteem rising with each hit. thanks for hanging in with me, I know this took a whole gd year. 
> 
> what started merely as my little idea _wicca!au where jihoon is a witch and the rest of w1 are normies_ has turned into a lewis carroll-level wonderland magic love explosion. 
> 
> thank you all for sticking with this, and me. come check me out my [twitter](https://twitter.com/tinylittlebell) but if this fic made you fell anything AT ALL please comment below, its not as scary as it seems and means everyfuckingthing to me


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